HV-S02: Quests for the Golden Fleece
by ekaterina016
Summary: In an era of heroes and legends, the world was never as pretty as it seemed. Lies, betrayals, pain, murder, torture; all ran rampant and unchecked. Thrown back into a mission he's completed, into a body of a person he hated, against the people he admired... Shirō wasn't one to shirk on adventures, but this...? Really, Alaya?
1. Awful First Meeting

**Welcome, everyone, to the 2nd installment of my Heroic Vessel series! I can't speak well enough of how proud I am to myself for getting this far, as well as all of you old readers who've pushed through with me through the first story. Here's a virtual toast to all of you! **

**Now, a few notes I have to share. Firstly, this story will heavily incorporate the popular 'adventurers' genre, inspired by a line in Atalanta's canon biography. As a result, you may have seen parts of this story's background and system, though I am doing my utmost to maintain TYPE-MOON's 'flavor' and logic. Still, as always, do tell me things you're confused of, want to debate on, and so forth, either through your reviews or PMs.**

**Secondly, I'm trying to push myself in terms of writing quality and quantity. I've changed some of the notations I use, most notably using more 'local' phrases, according to the settings, and to portray a different culture better. I'm not satisfied in how I describe the ancient British culture in RKR, simply due to inexperience in my part and lack of materials. To create a different world for you to enjoy - that is the goal of this story. Also, each chapter will be longer, and the story as a whole will have more chapters than before.**

**Thirdly, as you may have guessed from the title, this story takes place in Mycenaean Greece. Geographical, territorial, and political maps are all mentioned and described as best as I can in-story, but for better clarity, do go check the related Wikipedia pages and maps. You can contact me if you still have further questions.**

**Now, for new readers, knowledge of the first installment, HV-S01: RKR, isn't absolutely necessary, but it does help with understanding the system and intricacies of this universe. Go ahead and check it out! **

**I've spoken enough. Now, since I can't hold back my excitement anymore... ENJOY!**

* * *

\- Rumble. Rumble. Rumble.

Distant echoes of thunder rolled around and among the surrounding clouds, bellowing in hunger to strike a weak soul. Black shadows among white-grey fluffs flickers at times with flashes of lightning, casting monstrous shadows as large as the cumulonimbus present.

No being would dare tackle Ouranos's body – the sky – in conditions like this, not even the mightiest races or the bravest heroes.

Yet, one person lived here.

The master of lightning itself, Zeus, the King of Olympus.

One of the reasons he was unafraid of his environment was because he created it in the first place. 'Duh,' many would think, but his situation was rarer than they assumed. The power of the elements wasn't something to be trifled with, and many masters had been harmed by their own actions, mostly due to improper respect for said elements in their use.

The other… was because he's facing something _even more terrifying_.

Alaya, the representative of Man.

To humans, it would appear as the form most appealing to them in order to earn their trust. It might not be a face or figure familiar to them at first glance, but it would be something which endeared to their ideals the most.

To others with… _heightened_ intelligence, say, it would appear merely as a spherical form, or an irregular one full of [Chaos]. That sentence alone summed up the contradiction existing within Alaya: it wanted to preserve humanity, yet the very same humanity it treasured was always fated to cause their own destruction, and thus Alaya's demise.

A being of [Order] who nurtured beings of [Chaos]. Truly, an existence unfathomable to him or the other gods…

…and they fear Alaya for it.

They were lords, _masters_ of this world, rightfully or not. Those humans… no, _insects_ on the ground were simply their possession to create, to harm, to nurture, to curse, and so on. If the humans wanted their attention, then they had to do something spectacularly impossible or enormous, which often times meant death was the outcome.

And here it was, a being which, despite its indirectness, aimed to annihilate the gods and champion mankind.

_'If it's here, then… the Heroic Vessel is also here?!'_ Zeus's thought raced, electricity crackling between his fingers, ready for a moment's release.

Yet the spherical object, lightly glowing in a peculiar color, hummed casually.

\- _Halara_. No offensive movements intended.

Its voice was as alien to the natural order as he had the chance to hear it before. Throughout history, mankind had been the 'virus' which infected the pure nature, represented by his mother, Gaia. Such was their presence that she sook help from Ultimate Ones across the universe to help with 'pest control'. Beings who could think independently for themselves – and most importantly, be _selfish_ – were the bane of many living systems across the universe.

The more they spread, across worlds, across timelines, the stronger Alaya became. It drew its strength from any form of humanoid civilization not supported by its own natural world, seeking to protect them by tapping into their subconscious desire to survive. Across time, across space, so long as some form of 'humans' remained, it would gather its strength and struck against their oppressors – the gods.

\- Permission for a conversation. Confirmed?

Zeus could only dumbly nod. The thunder around him sounded more and more muted as he fell under Alaya's gaze, frozen under the very real threat it represented.

No, it shouldn't happen so quick. At this moment in the Age of Gods, the deities' very being was the representation of the natural order of Gaia, especially him, her most powerful grandson, both as the youngest and oldest. The Alpha and Omega. If Alaya harmed him now – which it certainly could, with its myriad of ploys – it would elicit natural disasters which the current humans would be ill-suited to deal with.

In short, Zeus's life indirectly held the humans' hostage. And Alaya knew this very well.

"What do you want?" His voice had none of his divine authority when preaching over humans, or the rebellious dignity he had against his father.

\- Heroic Vessel deployment complete. Informing all related parties.

_'Well, shit.'_

* * *

Okeanos was eerily calm, noted the ship's captain. Beautiful mid-noon sunshine, but even Helios's usual stinging heat wasn't present, replaced by the cool sea breeze. Very rarely did this happen; in his experience, the sea wasn't a place for leisure, but a wilderness where survival took priority in front of everything else.

Therefore, this nap-worthy weather was something to cherish and enjoy.

If only the VIP he's ferrying wasn't so damn _important_…

He checked on his helmsman nearby, who had an even worse nervous expression on his face, with a slight tremble on those sea-hardened shoulders of his. Following his line of sight, the captain spotted one red-haired figure leaning on the deck's starboard railing, seemingly enjoying the weather just as much as he was.

This was Σείριος, normally pronounced as 'Seirios' or 'Shirō', one of Greece's only three S-Ranked adventurers.

Well, the man didn't introduce his precise name _per se_, but the ship captain knew full well who the redheaded man was. A few 'birds' whispered his way about the man's identity, and it only served to bring excitement to the whole crew.

As a matter of fact, this very vessel wasn't a stranger to ferrying around adventurers and other occupations of similar ilk; in a way, roughriders and outcasts. There's nothing a few bags of coins couldn't buy, and the captain certainly didn't value himself high enough to refuse income from this particular direction.

He had lost count how many young men and women he sent off to their deaths. Oh, he'd recognize their expression when they first boarded: full of optimism and idealism. Yet, not a few days after, he would lose touch with them, when the deadline forced him to return and abandon them to their fates.

There's several prospective new faces on board this time, as well. Hopefully, with Sir Shirō here, these rookies could survive to fight at least one more battle in the future.

\- ████████████!

_'Well, I just have to go ahead and jinx it, don't I?'_

* * *

"H-Hey, that's him, isn't it?! That's him!" A few excited whispers buzzed around Perseus's lying form, eliciting a frown from his napping expression. "I-I'll go greet him! Ask for an autograph, m-maybe…?" It's yet another voice, this time sounding younger than the previous one.

With a grunt, he raised his upper body to see the fellow adventurers around him, all around his age group, huddling close together to the bunk he's using. Their faces, no matter boys or girls, were all tense with glee because… of something-something celebrity, apparently.

_'Tsk, why can't they appreciate a person's need to rest?'_ He grumpily thought, _'All heroes are just borrowers of divine power, that's all… If I'm as lucky as him, I'll overtake him in no time…!'_

His bitter mug went unnoticed by the other rookies, as they now had a semi-fight between them who should greet the S-Ranked Shirō first.

How many hopes and dreams were contained within this ship's hull? From Perseus's perspective, being given this shabby shared accommodation, it also served as a trial of attitude. Naturally, higher-ranked adventurers commanded a better service, and he had little doubt that red-haired man's room was even better than the captain's.

_'Lucky bastard,'_ he spitefully cursed, turning his back once again to gain at least some more resting time.

His curly hair sank shallowly into the cheap and thin padding, while the others' were far too animated to even contemplate sitting down.

Unlike him, they were all far more pure-hearted in their admiration of Shirō. After all, he was only the second of this generation of heroes to attain the coveted 'S-Rank', after the Adventurers' Guild's Master and another demigod. Fully human, with not a drop of divine blood flowing inside him, he was the ideal they're all chasing after.

They'd heard the rumors of his incredible work ethic and unselfish kindness, not differentiating between the status of the people he met. Some of the girls were looking at his side profile dreamily, hoping he'd take notice of them and, at the very least, grant them his 'hospitality'. Owing to current Greece's more liberal culture, these virgin girls were staring without a shred of embarrassment, and some were even beginning to think to modify their gears to show more skin to entice him.

Why did they become adventurers? Was it because they were enthralled by their parents' bedtime stories? Was it because they were saved by a hero who happened to be one? Was it because their livelihood's condition offered them little choice for anything other than that?

Among these young people, the reasons were perhaps a good chaotic mix of all the above reasons, plus their individual, very personal ones.

The job [Adventurer] was far from the dream-like, adrenaline-filled, glorious legends of old. Even at their relatively young age, they all understood it at the back of their mind. At any given time, they must be prepared to lose their lives, or worse, their dignities as human beings to the challenges and quests fate laid in front of them. They, the E-Rankers, made up of nearly 90% of Greece's adventurers, yet less than half of them would even last a couple of years, much less graduate one rank.

[Adventurer] had never been about 'clean' work. Trash cleaning. Treasure hunting in desolate areas filled with filth. Assassination of publicly innocent people, all with families. Battling monsters and having their limbs disappear as a result, only to be rewarded with what amounted to a pittance. Drafted into wars they had little desire to participate in.

Yet, there was people like Shirō who inspired others to follow his path; to become a 'clean' person, no matter the hurdles.

Oh, there was plenty of heroes with stains in their name. A dime a dozen; their heroic deeds were interspersed with stories of savage brutality and object greed or lust. The common people were not able to resist, both physically and politically, leaving them at the bottom of the social order in a world where humans were already the gods' playthings.

Without a respectable job and position, their standings were practically equal to slaves.

That's why it's a relatively easy way out. Becoming an adventurer promised _money_, if nothing else. That's the _only_ thing it's good for; guaranteed for the rest of their working years, even. It couldn't buy everything, but everything needed it. A harsh reality, yes, but it's a road they bravely faced to survive.

Among the half who survived from the E-Rankers, only half of those had the potential to rise to D-Rank. The chances exponentially dropped the higher the rank, which resulted in the S-Rank's numbers being essentially unchanged for the past century, before Herakles and Shirō showed up. It wasn't simply a case of strength; if so, then mercenaries and professional soldiers would populate the job far more.

Unlike other jobs, being an adventurer put one's self far closer to the public in a far greater area. Someone tied to a job or an employer simply didn't have the breadth of capacity to handle requests from even the lowest and poorest of areas. Their personality, judgement, and awareness were all tested, excluding their own survival and management capability in the field.

Being an S-Rankers meant one had achieved the highest ranks in all attributes, both tangible and intangibles, which was why they looked up to Shirō so much.

Speaking of him, the rookies noticed something strange just now.

His face was tense.

\- ████████████!

…before a giant quake rocked the ship they're in, tossing them about.

* * *

What am I doing here, really?

I can merely shrug at the answer of that question, specifically because I've saved this world _already_. Alaya wasn't contactable, thus I was left to my own devices. It's not necessarily a bad thing; some of our decisions did differ significantly on occasions, with eerily similar results. For instance, a person Alaya didn't recommend saving ended up living and producing a better end product because I saved them on a whim.

But… I've been here before. Well, not precisely _here_, but the same era, the same timeline.

Perhaps this is another world? Another version of the dimension I've visited earlier, with another outcome? Or is this… its past?

If so, then shouldn't whatever I do here undo the things I've accomplished then? What if the people who should've been born, or raised, or even _lived_ ceased to exist because of what I do here?

When I signed up for this, Alaya conveniently didn't mention _this _possibility.

I'm supposed to be sent to various points in history to change it for the better. To achieve the 'happy endings' so cruelly denied to various individuals due to fate, or worse, the machinations of others of higher stature.

But to be thrown into a loop back in the past, with possible consequences of undoing what I've done in the future _which I've saved_?

Truth be told… I'm scared of it. Even after experiencing these 'jumps' so many times, this is the first time I went _back_, instead of forwards.

Will the end of the Age of Gods play just like how I designed it? Will the golden era of the Age of Heroes bloom just like how I dreamt it?

Most important of all, will I be able to save them all, all the same?

* * *

\- ████████████!

"WHAT THE _PHU_?!"

The entire lower deck of the wooden ship, well-made as it was, creaked dangerously. The crashing force wasn't as much as a 'bang' or 'boom', but an all-encompassing cacophony of noise which raked in people's innards.

Which was why Perseus was thrown face-first into the wooden ceiling above his bunk.

Still seeing stars around him, he held his curly bangs, thrown into disarray by the impact, to the side of his head, trying to get his bearings. His fellow rookies were similarly confused, some of them landing in weird angles, though hopefully none of them were seriously hurt.

Hey, he might be an asshole, but he's going to be a _successful _one, damn it. And that required other people's support s around him. It wouldn't do him any good if any potential future 'flunkies' died off right at this moment, no?

"Everybody out! Everybody out, now!" An old, raspy voice commanded from the upper deck, clearly panicked. "Arm yourselves! To arms, everyone!"

_'You don't say, old man!' _Perseus cursed in his heart, while helping those around him to their feet and their scattered weapons.

Despite being rookies, at the very least, these young people knew better than to rush like madmen towards the upper deck. Instead, with their minimal amount of training, they managed to militarily march upwards, where the scene of combat greeted them.

…though completely opposite to what they all expected.

Internally, all of them – Perseus included, though he'd never admit it – were excited at their first taste of combat. Who hadn't heard of heroic tales of seafarers battling monsters or pirates, before coming home in a shower of glory and spoils?

Pushing through to the front of the crowd, Perseus hollered, "Hey! Where's the enemy, Captain?! We're all here!"

Yet, the elderly captain and his helmsman replied to them by staring blankly to the ship's starboard's side.

Following their line of sight, the rookies were left gob-smacked, too.

The sea… was _gone_.

To be more precise, the field of navy blue-green right in front of them had _split in half_, revealing a ravine roughly three ships wide. Slowly, Perseus turned around to check behind them, and the situation was similar. In fact, the entire ship seemingly was _floating above _this newly-found chasm, with two water walls framing their vision.

'_W-Why… why aren't we falling to our deaths yet?' _Thus sounded the collective thoughts of everyone on board, whose attention was finally torn from the supernatural phenomenon by a gigantic shadow blurring through the skies.

"T-Theutus…?" A young girl's voice muttered in disbelief.

All present did hear the name she uttered, yet no one seemed to be able to register the actual meaning behind it in their shocked minds.

Yes, a gigantic squid… _was flying above them._

\- Splurch.

Slowly, as if teasing them, several lines appeared across its body, allowing copious amount of grotesquely-colored bodily fluids to rain on the ship and its occupants. A moment later, the gigantic squid disintegrated into boulder-sized chunks, falling into the dried-up sea bed, and some onto the upper deck.

\- Splat.

…and directly on top of Perseus's head.

Somehow, at that exact moment, the other rookies had managed to sense the impending doom and moved out of the way, leaving him to bear the burden alone.

Just on cue, as sunlight peered through the gaps in the squid's body, Shirō gently floated down towards the deck, with not a stain on his clothes or person.

He waved his arms, and a burst of pink petals escaped from the bottom of the ship, just in time before the split sea sucked it down to its depths.

\- WWAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

As soon as his feet touched the wooden floor, the young adventurers swamped him while screaming and clapping in ecstasy, leaving the struggling Perseus to weakly lift himself out of the slimy mollusk meat pinning him to the ground.

* * *

There was an island called Sarpedon, situated near the coastal town of Cisthene. Quite far from the epicenter of Greek influence, its general area bordered the western parts of the Persian Empire directly, which was under the jurisdiction of a different divine pantheon. Technically, the town itself was inside Athens's naval territory, giving it somewhat of a stable sea trade route, against either monsters or pirates.

However, this particular island was forbidden to travelers, shielded from outside probing through a variety of means. Many had wondered aloud 'Why?', with most coming to the conclusion the island contained _something_ of divine attribute, with enough power to grant whoever possessed them instant authority over… another 'something'.

The relative isolation didn't last long. Various scholars and mercenaries slowly, but surely, found their way past the invisible blockade. Either by simple trial-and-error, through sailing blindly across the sea and hoping to detect any abnormalities, or using someone with divine blessing from various deities who might have some inkling of the way there.

When they got there, the reality was different than what they expected.

The island was a tropical paradise, if rather deserted of man and beast. With plenty of soft, near-white sands encircling hard-nosed green shrubbery, the first ones to get to the island was suitably impressed by its beauty. It's a far cry from the nature's haven of Arcadia, or the rumored golden eminence of Colchis, but still a soothing sight for the eyes.

At least, until all of their heads were eaten by a powerful monster.

There was no eyewitness or survivor for the first few months, but after news of constant disappearance spread, words of a man-eating monster began to circulate among the adventurers of Greece. Soon, the Guild Master secretly received a royal edict from Athens, requesting more powerful warriors to investigate Sarpedon.

Unknowingly, even its own patron goddess had plans against this order.

Athena, the goddess of wisdom, handicraft, and warfare. Represented by the owl as her bestial avatar. Though proudly described by her own followers as the epitome of logic and honor, it was her who truly was the root of this sudden crisis.

Sarpedon, the Shapeless Isle. It eventually earned its name from the lack of geographical description from whoever returned from it alive. All they know was the inhabitants of said place, numbering only three: the Gorgon Sisters.

Born from mankind's wish for the 'ideal goddesses', each of them possessed inhuman beauty, enough to enchant even the gods. Fated to be a [Constant] – in a way, remaining young and beautiful forever – they were thus born among humans, who loved them.

Then, as time went on, some female goddesses began exhibiting signs of negative emotions against them. Most of them, such as Poseidon's wife, were simply jealous, unable to accept another females' physical advantage over themselves.

One, however, did not have such thing.

Athena, the supreme goddess, said to be the strongest female being in Olympus, knew the truth of her own misgivings. Oh, she herself was beautiful, yes, and make no mistake – she was prone to the same pettiness as other women, too. Yet, her wisdom and intelligence knew one thing the others, including those foolish humans who worshiped the Gorgons, did not.

One of the Gorgons, Medusa, wasn't born perfect. Ah, Athena wasn't talking about Medusa's enthralling beauty – she had plenty of that – but she lacked the element of [Constant] her sisters possessed. Fated to grow old and die, instead of having immortality, fate bestowed her with an even greater power to compensate.

The well-read and well-informed Athena knew of other pantheons' collection of prophecies. Much as Zeus chronically feared his own, born from the hands of the Sisters of Fate, Athena was aware how every other pantheon was supposed to end in either the near or distant future: by a mythical beast so powerful it destroyed not only the gods, but the foundations of their place in the world.

Medusa was one of them. **The Gorgon.**

If left unchecked, she was certainly a being which could threaten them in the future.

Athena's rational side knew it was useless to battle against one's end. After all, the whirlpool of circumstance decreed things were always never meant to last. A civilization's rise would echo its own fall, either by a grand battle or a cowardly whimper. Olympus, too, had its fair share of brushes with cyclical events – Zeus's patricide eerily mirrored his father's, and his father's father before that.

However, her other side – the one which made her an Olympian, instead of a Titan, truer to her base desires – fell into panic at this knowledge. Humans called it 'self-preservation', which most deities didn't even realize they had, owing to their inherent arrogance of self-importance.

There were, however, several methods to prevent Medusa from becoming her fated form.

First was the usual, easiest one: kill her. The other Gorgon Sisters were weak, so much so they relied heavily on Medusa to provide them with sufficient protection against the laws of nature, despite their immortality. To Athena – or most gods, really – killing little girls were as simple and unhesitating as flipping over their own palms.

Second, was to prevent her 'monster-ification' via preventing objects which could accelerate it. Namely, from the information Athena had gathered, Medusa's heart would start to cloud over the more humans she defeated, killed, and devoured. Thus, Athena erected a preventative barrier around Sarpedon to reduce potential aggressors.

She could not afford to publicly deny access to the island. Humans, despite their inherent 'lowliness', as per the gods' logic, were quite perceptive to the meanings behind divine messages, especially the scholars and nobles. The more Athena denied them access to one particular area, the more desire they would have to deny her, no matter how harsh her punishment was.

The third option… was perhaps the least likely of the three.

She heard rumors of a certain being who visited the top of Mount Olympus recently. Zeus had grown restless, as a result, with his two closest brothers following suit. Both Poseidon and Hades were particularly tricky gods to deal with, as their temperament, while not as violent and prone to swings as Ares, was even more unpredictable. Silence from both parties didn't instantly mean 'everything is well'.

The being's name was kept under wraps, even to the aforementioned pair of gods, much less her, Zeus's daughter. Yes, his most beloved one, but a daughter nonetheless, and thus 'lower' in caste. She suspected its identity would only be revealed to a ruler of pantheon…

Cronus was dead. Ouranos was disabled. Zeus was secretive.

However, _humans_ weren't any of those. There's little shame in her to gaze upon the records of other lands' people, and therefore she was able to gleam one particular phrase, which strangely cropped up throughout history.

To be frank, it's not precisely 'cropping up', but instead… _'erased'_. There were patches were there _should _be someone doing something, _should _be someone causing something, _should _be someone disappearing or dying…

Yes, this person… could be the third solution for Medusa.

"Endure it, my daughters… Your heroes will arrive soon…"

* * *

Somehow, the sea breeze was saltier during the night.

Under the beautiful arrangement of stars, still unbroken and unhidden by future developments, the half-moon shone brighter than it was when viewed on land. At least, that's how Perseus saw it, given this was his first time adventuring so far away from his home.

Perhaps the salt was produced by his own heart, as he scowled against the bridge's outer wall, relinquishing his back towards it. His fellow rookies were all noisy as Hades down there, the earlier afternoon's battle still exciting them.

_'Hmph… they really **are** rookies. When will they grow…?'_

Suddenly, a voice called out from above him.

"Can't sleep?"

"H-Holy shi-!"

A person's shadow lithely hopped down beside him, revealing itself to be their 'hero' of today… Sir Seirios.

No, perhaps he shouldn't address the older man like that. After all, Perseus had heard of the 'rumors'… Well, they're more like public knowledge; still, the person in question hadn't officially confirmed it himself, despite his peers' pressure, so the truth would remain unknown until then.

The man standing in front of him – his true identity – was the crown prince of Iolchos, Jason.

Perseus had little idea why he'd take on another name and became an adventurer, instead of using his position to live a life of luxury. There were gossips of internal conflict, or perhaps a divine revelation, or maybe another reason entirely… Not that he could ask outright, right now. His rank, as an adventurer, a noble, and a man, was too far apart from the other guy.

Calming himself down by running his fingers through his curly bangs, he finally replied, "Nah, not really. Your fans were keeping me awake, so here I am. They're finished already?"

The S-Ranker's expression contained a small amount of mirth, though his overall face remained kind and understanding of Perseus's rude demeanor. "I think so. Though I'm used to them… I don't see people like you often, which is a good thing I meet you here. Calms me down somewhat."

"R-Really?" The young man's voice hitched for a moment. "I thought you're… thinking otherwise."

"I've never been big on popularity, and things like that," Sir Seirios shrugged. "Herakles would've been better suited in such crowds."

"Could've fooled me."

Perseus immediately ducked his face, realizing he's stepped too far with his attitude. However, the other person seemed to take it in stride, watching him on with the relaxed body language of a veteran, instead of the arrogance of a newly-promoted B- and A-Rankers.

"Sorry for that," he managed to squeeze out. No matter how friendly the other guy might seem, there's little sense in taking his chances on how much he could offend the other party. "I… don't mean it in a bad way."

He couldn't see Sir Seirios's expression, but his voice sounded as light as always. "I know a person similar to you, so, again, I'm used to it. Don't fret; though other people might take it the wrong way. Careful with that mouth, young man." The older man moved to sit beside him, adding, "He was my friend as well, though my other… colleagues disliked his attitude."

Taking a peek to one side, Perseus couldn't help himself but ask, "Why… Why are you here? With me, I mean? I'm… I-I'm still nobody…"

"'Still', huh? Quite confident of you, Perseus."

"Y-You know my name?!"

The older redhead nodded. "I heard it from my patron god. You have a great path laid out before you, therefore I noticed."

Almost instantly, Perseus's expression brightened up. "Really?! Really, really, really?! I-I can become a great person, Sir Seirios?!"

Sir Seirios nodded lightly. "Yes. However, do feel free to call me just 'Shirō'. It's easier on the tongue, no?"

"Ah… Is that really alright? For me to…" Sounding unsure, Perseus asked, since even though it was easier, it sounded quite foreign… and personal. "To call you by your nickname like that,,, Er, is that right?"

"Aren't you the one who's all rude and casual with me earlier? Where did that person go?"

Perseus's face flushed in embarrassment.

Explaining further, Sir Seirios continued, "You were sent in this journey due to your desire to protect your mother, correct? How admirable."

"Y-Yes! My uncle… that _bastard_ desired her! Despicable! I can't let that happen!" Now quite animated, ironically similar to those rookies he condemned in his mind earlier, Perseus said, "I'll prove to him I can do it, and show everyone he's not as infallible as he thought!"

Sir Seirios then proceeded to pat Perseus's shoulder. "I have no doubt you will. Besides, haven't the gods blessed you with plenty of treasures? You have enough that even _I'm _jealous."

"Correct! Here, look at them!" Perseus excitedly stood up and waved his hand once, revealing a pocket dimension where he stored five… 'Noble Phantasms', were they? "Are there any weakness in them? I'm quite nervous, since I lack experience… Please give me your thoughts!"

The older man obliged, peering down for a full minute before looking back towards him. "Alright, I've got it. Close the opening first; don't want anyone else to get a look at them."

After Perseus complied, Sir Seirios didn't motion for him to sit back down, instead straightening up to full height with a serious face. Seeing that, Perseus also firmed up his stance, expecting a meaningful lecture.

"I'm sure you've been told of their uses by your respective grantors, so I won't go into much detail. If what you want to know are their weaknesses, then so far as I can observe, there isn't much to worry about." Counting off the 'Noble Phantasms' with his fingers, Sir Seirios continued, "They are all simple, but powerful instruments. It all depends on how you exploit their strengths while covering their limited variability. That, I think, is key. Their simplicity is also their greatest strength; complex weapons often has fatal drawbacks."

"Thank you for your advice!"

"Then, want some more?"

"Of course!"

"What do you know of your opponent?"

Steel entered Perseus's eyes. "A monster. Man-eater, natural disaster, calamity-class. I should avoid its eyes and-"

"'Its'?" Sir Seirios interrupted, the question mark in his voice very strong. "Is that all you knew of your opponent?"

"W-Well, it _is_ a beast, no? We should address it as such," Perseus nervously replied, this time not out of fear of rudeness, but fearing he had answered wrong. "If I slay it and take its head, I can go home faster to my mother and fulfill my uncle's request. Then, he'll leave her alone."

His question went unanswered for several seconds as the S-Ranker closed his eyes to ponder Perseus's words. When they opened, though, Perseus immediately took a step back, but was forcibly stopped by the same bridge wall he sat against earlier.

"What do you know of your opponent's background? The habitat?" Seemingly impatient, Sir Seirios hounded him, "Or have you ever stopped yourself and think… _'What if the thing I'm hunting down is, in fact, **a person**?'_"

"What? Nah, that's not possible!" Perseus lightheartedly answered, thinking he said the right thing. "A beast's a beast. There's no need to think further than that. Just go in and do my best! Um!"

After what seemingly was an entire year, Sir Seirios motioned for him to continue.

"E-Er… I should use Kibisis's power to prevent myself from getting turned into stone… And just… sneak in for the kill?"

His voice slowly grew smaller and smaller as he lost his earlier confidence with every word.

The older man's reply was very swift this time.

"May I be blunt?"

"Y-Yeah?"

With a face full of disappointment, Sir Seirios bluntly states, "You're a lost cause."

"W-What?!"

A small spark of anger began stoking in the pits of Perseus's stomach. Yes, the other man was an incredibly experienced and powerful S-Ranker, as shown earlier in the afternoon against that gigantic beast. However…

_'What does he know?! He… H-He doesn't know me! Hypocrite! Hypocrite, I say, after all that encouraging words!'_

"Then why did you say so many good things about me earlier?!" Perseus instinctively lashed out, raising his voice enough to stir the resting rookies downstairs. "So what's your point?! As I thought, was it to belittle me, the same as my uncle?! Huh?!"

He accidentally let his true feelings out. With a burden of his own mother's life on his shoulders, he was massively distressed for this expedition, which partly contributed to his spiky thoughts during the journey. Now, being confronted so openly like this, by someone who he had recently just started to respect, was a huge blow to his ego.

However, Sir Seirios simply shook his head calmly.

"It's about another matter entirely, separate from your fighting ability."

"Yeah, yeah, I know of my inexperience! You don't need to tell me after other people have done so thousands of times! I understand!" In his self-defense, he managed to muster enough determination to regain the step he lost earlier against Sir Seirios's gaze, now standing almost chest-to-chest. "So what is it you're saying, O esteemed _Lord Jason_?!"

The other man's eyes twitched. Good. _'It's getting to him,'_ Perseus thought.

Too bad he was severely outclassed.

"Shall I explain further? _Fine_," Sir Seirios spat out, his tone almost sharp enough to cut Perseus's neck right then and there. "_Medusa_, the 'beast' you mentioned, is a _she_. Female. That's the first bit of information you missed."

Immediately firing off another sentence, he added, "_She_ wasn't a beast, a monster, or anything of the sort. It was a curse, caused by her imperfect birth, which wasn't even a problem so long as people like you, _brat_, left her and her sisters alone. Yet, here you are, happily talking about her like a simple hunt of a boar or deer."

Sir Seirios barely took a breath in respite. "Through our conversation, I enticed you to think of Medusa as an individual, a _person_, yet you showed no inclination to do so. _Do not_ think of your opponents as mere _objects_, Perseus, or you are no different than your pathetic uncle, and how he viewed your mother as a mere object of lust. Understand?"

_'S-So it was a test?'_

Repeating his question out loud, Perseus only received a cold glare in return.

"A hero's duties are far more than slaying others. It was to understand them, and if possible, _save_ them. Medusa was simply a victim of the gods' wanton wishes, yet you exhibited little desire to understand her further than just a _target_. Now _that_ is the difference between an A-Ranker and S-Ranker, _boy_."

The eyes facing him, then golden and warm, now was completely shining silver and full of spite.

"I lied to you, earlier, Perseus. I came here not to speak to you, to encourage you, or to safeguard you and the others on this ship. Throw those ideas out of your small-minded brain."

Sir Seirios didn't even let his Od leak out, yet Perseus could feel his internal organs bleed from the sheer _sharpness_ of his anger.

"**I came here to kill you."**

* * *

Was it self-preservation? Was it panic?

Either way, Perseus let out an animalistic scream the instant Sir Seirios declared such, and jumped off the bridge's balcony towards the wider deck. Running desperately to jump off the ship, his path was cut off by a wide broadsword suddenly materializing in his path, stabbing deep into the treated timber.

"So, what will it be, Perseus, _son of Zeus_? Will you die here…"

His fellow rookies had already risen and spilled onto the upper deck, watching in an equal mix of fear and awe.

"…or will you come here and fight?"

* * *

**Glossary Update!**

**T**

**Theutus**  
A monstrous marine beast in the form of a grotesquely-oversized squid. It's well-known for its strangely wandering nature – able to cross oceanic zones with impunity, despite its natural habitat in the Twilight Zone – from the ocean's depths to the clearest surface. As a result, it often comes into conflict with other dwellers, including humans on the surface. Its meat is a prized commodity, although its brains hold the best flavor in the hands of a skilled chef.


	2. Bad Discussions

**Hello again, everyone! Welcome to the 2nd chapter! I'm happy with not only the number of reviews I got, but the contents were really encouraging. Like I've said plenty of times in my other stories, your readership fuels my passion for writing and TYPE-MOON research (though the latter's mostly due to the sexy CGs). Before I address your questions, there's a few points I want to bring up to prevent further confusion - ones I deliberately left out in the 1st chapter to see whether you'll ask me for them or not. Alright, here goes...  
**

**Timeline-wise, the usual Greek family tree will be revamped. As some of you may have realized, Herakles is Perseus's historical great-grandson. Well, not in this AU. Medusa, who's in the same era as Perseus, also got moved. The details of the timeline will be revealed one by one in the story - I only ask you to be observant of them... and be patient! Other characters, too, may have their timeline moved around for story purposes.**

**This fanfiction _will_ contain more M-rated scenes, owing to Ancient Greece's more... _liberal_ nature. However, I'm still testing the waters regarding this site's rules, so let me know whether I can ramp it up or need to turn it down when the scene comes.**

**Some of the Glossary and Character Sheet contents will be copies from HV-S01: RKR for the new readers to enjoy.**

**As always, why don't all of you take guesses on the OCs in this story? Should be a fun one! Now, the mailbag (sorry for the long AN!):  
miguelgiuliano: ****You have no idea how close your wishes are to coming true!  
The Rupture, YuukiAsuna-chan: Oh, just you wait...! No spoilers will be said in this AN!  
IshraqTaz: Regarding Shinji's and Perseus's similarity, I'm taking some liberties in this story, since there's too little canon materials for my liking.  
**

**Enjoy! Keep your reviews coming!**

* * *

**_A few days ago…_**

_"Kalimera!"_

After being away for such a long time, such familiar greeting does bring a smile to my face. Sometimes it's a beastgirl's happy-go-lucky tone, sometimes it's a bespectacled lower noble's firm words, sometimes it's a short-haired rough female voice from a farmer's background, but the Adventurers' Guild's greeting is always the same, everywhere, every time.

In a way, this was a good decision by the Guild's Master. Giving adventurers a sense of familiarity, of home, the instant they return to the Guild to report always alleviated the stress of traveling and combat somewhat. The cold floors, the constant palpitation of danger, the unpredictable weather, the deaths…

Even to me, whose loved ones can be trusted to take care of themselves, it's a good atmosphere to return to.

As soon as the enchanted wooden door behind me closed automatically, everybody stops whatever they're doing to look at me. Even as I walk towards the counter, where right now a particularly adorable and petite raccoon girl is manning, no one dares say a thing, afraid to offend the S-Ranker.

Although a common sight, and one I have gotten used to, I thought earlier that the main branch in Mycenae, the capital city, would be used to me or the other S-Rankers rather quickly, much as larger cities grew accepting of celebrities in the modern era. However, it seems I have thought wrong, since the only person making noise right now is the drunk Herakles near the center of the main hall.

He's still loudly proclaiming something or other, probably another bullshit complains of his, even though practically no one is really listening.

I casually approach his back and chop the back of his neck, sending him into deep slumber.

Oops, his weight has crushed the table beneath him. Well, I'll tell them to put it on his tab, then.

Normal people will have their hands broken if they attempt the same feat as me, since even this version of Herakles, yet to accomplish and crystallize his God Hand's [Mystery], is still inhumanly tough. That is, if they can even get past the drunken Herakles's guard and not have their own spine broken in return.

With my duty done, both in seriousness and in jest, I make my way to the waiting receptionist, who's excitedly clapping with her small, cute palms and jumping in her seat.

"Should we move to the appraising table beforehand?" I start, as I hand over my taken quest's documents.

"Um!" The young girl, reaching barely up to my liver, nods energetically.

Like many fantasy stories, quests are mostly managed by the Guild via a board. What is unique, and a sign of the Guild Master's expertise, is the virtual-based presentation of said board, saving the need to buy or procure parchment for the quests. A person, either solo or acting as their party's representative, merely needs to inject their Od into a hovering visual document to register their desire to take the quest. After the Guild's approval, then the quest will be considered as taken, whose status automatically updates across Greece.

I mean, hey, this is here even before my deployment as a young baby in this era. Perhaps the Guild Master was inspired by someone else?

Another form of quests – much more personal – is posted on the Olympian Boards located in each Guild's Branch Master's office. This contains the serious stuff: divine revelations, tasks, and even assassination orders. Coming straight from the gods themselves, any person involved will first be personally summoned to said offices and briefed there. Naturally, some rumors are bound to circulate, but in general, these quests are treated as matters of national security, with its corresponding level of secrecy.

I, an S-Ranker, usually take my quests in this manner. To be frank, the Guild itself pressures me to do so this way; or the quest board outside, meant for weaker adventurers, may be cleared out before anyone can gather any experience for themselves. On occasion, I involve myself in A-Ranked quests, mostly as either a consultant or partner to others, but that's the extent I am allowed to do.

_'How convoluted and boring,'_ I drily comment in my head, both at my thoughts and the waiting time to use the appraising table. It appears a B-Ranked party has just returned recently and was bickering about the reward split before I arrived.

My entrance, just like earlier, shuts them up instantly, and they proceed to hurry and split it roughly evenly and leave under my cool gaze.

"Sir Seirios, please proceed this way," the raccoon girl bows respectfully, with all traces of her former childishness gone. In its place, an air of trained professionalism is apparent, thus I follow her words. "Please put your palm in the usual place, as well as the proof of completion."

"I told you already, Raphtalia. It's 'Shirō'. Just keep it short and casual," I comment with ease, though my idea is immediately rejected with her silent and strong gaze. "Fine, fine; do what you want."

A victorious twinkle in her eyes are all the clues I need to know what's going on in her head.

As I place a Spatial Bag, issued by the Guild Master to C-Rankers and above, onto the opposing side of the table to where I place my palm, I ask, "How's your husband, by the way? Is he still being his usual self?"

I push my Od through my palm, where a red tribal sword-like mark appears across it. The table glows and hums lightly, indicating the safety feature is on. It can identify its users after they register their Od signature, as well as protect the Guild's examiners from potentially harmful materials collected.

"Worryingly, yes," she replies, a hand cupping her cheek in a show of mild frustration. "I fear our age difference is showing; it's difficult to have him listen to me."

From the heart-sized bag, I deftly pull out a thick bundle of glittering snake skin. Naturally, with the level of quests I undertake, it's no ordinary one, as even its glitter is far more enchanting than most precious stones. Though airy, it takes a C-Ranked Noble Phantasm from Unlimited Blade Works to portion it for use, showing how tough it actually is.

I am thankful this time isn't an extermination-type request. It's the molt of Echidna's lower snake half, produced about 3 months after she gives birth to a monster. The woman herself is courteous and polite, completely the opposite of her Titan mate Typhon, but the journey itself is incredibly arduous. Most of her offspring, the monster race, live peacefully in separation from humans, with the occasional bartering and marriage, but the small percentage who aren't doing so are the problem.

The path to her domain, close to Typhon's, includes a village filled with these bloodthirsty and cunning monsters who have separated themselves from their 'weaker' siblings, or so they claim. They have manipulated and monopolized the only convenient way into Echidna's palace, exhorting heavy tolls to whoever wants to pass.

Or, if they dislike said traveler, they'll simply attack and devour them without any words of provocation.

Somehow, I am one of the very few people they either trust or fear, and thus am able to safely pass through and collect this material. Though rich, the Guild's wallet isn't limitless, and neither is the quest giver's, thus they can't afford to pay extra every time Echidna's snake skin is needed.

It's a routine I've done for the last few years, about twice a year in total. Given I probably have the highest kill count against Echidna's children than anyone else in history, it's a wonder she still does business with me so constantly.

"Good work as always."

A smooth, manly voice calls out from behind me, revealing its owner to be the Guild Master himself, the centaur Chiron. He's in his human form this time, and a waft of myriad scents temporarily overwhelms my olfactory senses, mostly attributed to a forest.

"Sorry about the commotion outside. I'll take him home after this," I answer after bowing lightly to acknowledge his presence. "What's gotten into Herakles this time? Another less-than-perfect quest?"

"He got into another quarrel with his stepmother."

"Does Hera have nothing better to do?" I ask, irritated. Really, that woman, though very good and cooperative to me, seems to have a personal and irrational grudge against the large man. "I'll speak to her later."

Chiron smiles gently, shaking his back-length hair. "There is no need. I have quelled her anger, though perhaps merely temporary in nature. Thanks to the prophecy you provided, her clutches on his family have been released."

In legend, Herakles was driven mad by his stepmother, Hera, owing to her enmity towards his status as Zeus's illegitimate son, and eventually killed his entire nuclear family. The grief drove him to the Oracle of Delphi, where he was later tasked the Twelve Labors to cleanse his sin.

This was one of the aspects of the gods I hated the most, leading to me confronting them on their hypocrisy in numerous occasions. Why must Herakles, an innocent at that point in time, be responsible for the sin caused by a goddess's whims? Having told off Hera, with plenty of swear words and showcase of my actual power as a Heroic Vessel, I got her to back down. I wasn't expecting this to be a final solution; we humans knew how long deities could hold a grudge.

With a wave of his arm, he orders some helpers to cart in my reward. Though the Spatial Bag he created is perfect for this very purpose, allowing large amounts of money to be exchanged easily and lightly due to its compact size, there is this tradition specially reserved to those adventurers who are accomplished enough to receive the Guild Master's personal presence.

By showcasing the actual physical size of the amount of money, held in bags large enough to be comical, it both showcases the Guild's power, as well as proving its honesty to the adventurers. The helpers are all struggling to push the carts under the mountains of money bags on it, making them creak dangerously.

I activate my Pure Eyes momentarily, confirmed the content's amount, and open my own Spatial Bag to suck in the money.

"Fast and efficient as always. How I envy your eyes, Shirō." A strange glint appears in Chiron's eyes, making me uncomfortable. "I do not mean it that way, naturally. An archer must strive to better themselves, and someone with a better vision will always be the benchmark we chase."

Chuckling, I cheekily reply, "I thought you're going to rip them off my skull, just like how the gods would."

Raphtalia is the only one not smiling, maintaining her stiff standing position.

* * *

"Sorry for the mess, everyone."

After lightly addressing the still-quiet crowd outside, I proceed to casually drag the still-unconscious Herakles through the main doors. The usual afternoon crowd split neatly along the middle at the sight of the two of us, granting easy passage back to Herakles's mansion near the outskirts of the capital.

As soon as I confirm the 'package drop' with his wife and children, now alive, I make my way back to the Guild for some more information I need for the next few days.

\- Knock. Knock. Knock.

This time, I go through Chiron's office's window, passing the perplexed Guild Master into his private study.

Realizing the serious topic I'm about to bring up, he closes his eyes in concentration, activating the privacy barrier enchanted right to the very bones of this building. Its precise construction is only known to the S-Rankers, meaning the three of us: myself, Chiron, and Herakles. A very impressive feat of engineering, even I will be hard-pressed to stealthily break into this barrier.

To one side of his office is the famed Olympian board, and there is already one request highlighted, meaning there's someone who's taken it – voluntarily or not.

"Any news from Olympus?" I ask as I make my way to the Board, observing the identity of the adventurer chosen by their respective patron gods.

Folding his arms, Chiron's gentle expression is nowhere to be seen, as he gravely replies, "I heard your… superior has visited Zeus lately."

"Oh, really?" I let out a surprised sigh, both at the news of Alaya's visit to the King of Gods as well as the identity displayed on the Board. "Did they get into a scuffle?"

"Information is sparse. Zeus seemed embarrassed, perhaps put at a disadvantage by the surprise visit." The Guild Master's lips are tightly pursed together. "And you should know Alaya itself could not come into physical contact with anyone in this dimension. That's your job."

"Naturally," I offhandedly reply, my attention now turning towards the name on the highlighted quest. "This person… Perseus, hm? New guy?"

"It appears to be so. Another one of the gods' whims, I'm sure."

Obviously, I know perfectly well of this 'Perseus', unlike the non-Heroic Vessel Chiron. Information of his past, achievements, Noble Phantasms, and so on are perfectly recorded in Unlimited Blade Works from my previous visit to the Ancient Greece of a different age. His personality, thoughts, and tendencies… I can't say I approve of his way of life, but I must recognize the man and hero he eventually will become.

A good one, at that.

That said, the victims required to turn him into such a person… must be saved.

The image of a red veil, covering a modern-day Japanese high school, passes through my eyes for a moment.

The warm sunset glow drowns the illusion with its unending reality soon after, bringing me back to the present.

"Have you done the proper background checks?"

"Who do you think I am?" Chiron quickly shoots back, though his facial expression doesn't seem too offended. "He's another one of Zeus's bastard son."

"Which ones are backing him right now?"

"Quite a lot. They seem to place a lot of expectation at this boy." Chiron counts with his fingers, "Zeus. Hades. Hermes. Athena."

"So, basically, all my normal sparring partners."

Chiron wordlessly nods.

After a while, as the sunlight dims, the centaur finally speaks, "Are you going to meddle in this one, too?"

"It's necessary."

"'Necessary'? Going against deities this much is 'necessary'?" For the first time, Chiron's tone hardens. "Aren't you just being suicidal? Haven't you saved enough people?"

My answer is simply a sharp glare, infused with a copious amount of anger in it.

The stand-off lasts for a good few seconds, before the Guild Master backs off.

"Do whatever you want," he relents, sighing in defeat. "I only demand the usual restrictions from you."

Despite our tense conversation, it also showcases Chiron's trust in me. Well, being a fellow S-Ranker may have something to do with it, but my records speak for themselves. The amount of work I've done to safeguard humanity from the gods' whims, or other disasters, was overwhelming enough to grant me my present rank after only being active for 2 years, breaking Herakles's record by a very wide margin. My warnings, or 'prophecies', as Chiron always calls them, helped the Guild to expand to its current size, gaining massive popularity and support from the people.

He knows my character and the way I work, which is why he's one of the very few people who knows my status as a Heroic Vessel. For comparison, even Herakles has no idea. The other one… is an A-Ranker who's particularly intimate with me, so there's little sense for me to not share with her, too.

I will never kill wantonly, nor will I be easily incited into doing foolish things. Both Chiron and Herakles have plenty of restrictions placed on them, owing to their partial divine backgrounds, but I have no such thing.

"Also, can you do me a favor, Chiron?"

"What now?"

"There's more and more bugs around her lately. Can you… well, take care of _her_ when I'm gone?"

He brushes his hair off his shoulders as he sits down, his posture the perfect image of his usual self. "…I'll pass on your message. Can't you wait until _she_ returns? Or is this quest more important than everyone, as per usual?"

"Regretfully, the latter," I admit, bowing my head in gratitude. "I'll see you soon."

"Don't forget the proper report later!"

Chiron's voice calls up from far behind me as I launch myself from the windowsill.

* * *

_'Stop it…'_

\- Munch. Munch. Slurp.

_'STOP IT…!'_

\- Munch. Slurp. Gulp. Gulp.

**_'STOP IIIIIIIITTTTTTTTT!'_**

Despite her mind's constant screaming, her mouth didn't stop. Tirelessly, her now-monstrous jaw bite and munch and gulp and slurp into the tasty, tender white meat, delightfully lapping each droplets of blood.

**_'NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!'_**

She tried to scream, yet all which came out was an animalistic roar of satisfaction. No, rather, even animals would cower in fear hearing such a horrific sound. It was more… alien rather than a natural voice – one which shouldn't exist on Gaia. What she was producing from her grotesque maw was a deep reverberation of fulfilment, one only true monsters produced when their sins were heinous enough.

She rebelled with all her strength, with every part of her soul yelling out loud.

No one heard her. Not even her own body, which had become something else.

Gone was her perfect, silky, long violet hair, the exact same shade as her sisters. It was a trait all three of them were proud of, yet she was the only one who got teased all the time because it kept growing, and it was a hassle for them to trim it periodically. Her smooth, perfect skin was now covered in sickening yellow-gold scales, the transition area between the former and latter turning into a disgusting skin-less muscle.

If it was merely a physical transformation, then she wouldn't be so scared right now.

No, it's because she could feel it _going into her soul_, as well.

Any moment now, her own 'self', the one crying as she ate, would disappear, and only one thing would be left in her place.

Gorgon, the monster.

* * *

When Athena saw what happened, she screamed.

A primal howl of nature washed over the island of Sarpedon, eliciting all of the remaining creatures on it to cower in fear and hide. Much as Athena was the paragon of intellect and wisdom, there was another aspect of her which wasn't all nice and kind: warfare. Her cry was akin to an army's stampede, shaking both the earth and sky by the sheer force of presence, as well as fighting spirit and killing intent.

Only one creature stood unaffected… No, it simply didn't care.

Having lost all capacity for thought, the Gorgon continued to tear the flesh of Stheno and Euryale bit by bit.

As if savoring choice, aged meat, it delighted in slurping their intestines, still whole, and savoring them like a sick image of pasta-eating. Their meat, born from the ideals of humanity, was tender and fall-of-the-bone juicy, rousing the Gorgon's appetite even more.

Athena surged forward, yet a red barrier immediately pressed down on her as soon as she entered Sarpedon's coastline, sapping her of her divinity and power by the second.

"MEDUSA! STOP, NOW!"

Her long silver hair bounced by the wind, unmarred by the parasitic red hue covering the entire island, as she rushed towards the large, towering figure.

Rationally speaking, she was at a disadvantage. Each deity had their own 'polis', a city where they were its patron god and worshiped zealously, creating a pseudo-territory where they ruled supreme. No matter how powerful she was as a goddess, she was away from her domain, and entered Gorgon's instead. The former would've capped her maximum power and authority, while the latter downgraded her strength even further.

A large scythe appeared in her hands – tiny, twig-like when compared to the Gorgon's monstrous form – and lashed out to separate it from its meal. However, it's not Harpe, merely its imitation, thus she was driven back with a large roar, right back to the coastline.

She gritted her teeth at her helplessness.

There they were, her three daughters being soiled into something they're not.

Three beautiful girls, compiled from the wishes of humanity by her, Athena's, power of wisdom. Ruling over Athens, one of Greece's biggest city and rivalling the capital in sheer size, there was a good percentage of those wishes – of an ideal 'goddess' – which originated from her city. She, with her authorities, was the most ideal candidate to fulfil those calls – and she did.

Stheno. Euryale. Medusa. Her three greatest masterpieces.

Even the last of them, Medusa, 'the failure', was perfect in her own way. Her elder sisters were forever trapped in their youthful beauty, leaving Medusa to assume the adult amorous form to fulfill the other part of mankind's desires. If given the chance, there's every possibility she could become Aphrodite's successor – such was the greatness of her appearance and figure, constantly and fascinatingly morphing all the time.

And yet, all of it came to naught due to a minor defect, and resulted in this situation.

She could hear it since a few days ago. Medusa's cries. Her plight, torment, and internal torture, all screamed at Athena for brief moments. Yet, the goddess's duties held her back, and she was late to prevent this fratricide.

The twins' violet eyes, laid there, empty and unblinking as Thanatos claimed their souls. Their perfect faces had chunks of meat missing, leaving a grotesque abstract picture with snapped muscle fibers and exposed cartilage.

The Gorgon's sole large eye – Cybele's true form – finally rested fully on Athena's figure, yet there was something there which didn't belong.

\- Help me.

"Medusa…"

\- …Mother.

A gigantic tail slammed into Athena's side, blasting her through the forests of Sarpedon.

* * *

**Present Time**

"Wait- Wait- Wait- Wait- Wait- Wait- Wait- Wait- WWAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTT!"

The elderly captain, roused from his slumber by the sudden noise, suddenly jumped in between the two adventurers.

With a thumping heart, he calmly assessed the situation using his years of experience on the sea's surface, dealing with crews fighting each other, fending off pirates, and so on. Yet, no amount of years could substitute for standing right in front of a seemingly enraged S-Ranked adventurer – practically a god to them.

Under the night sky, Sir Seirios's eyes were shining bright silver, almost enough to shade his own face from the onlookers, casting a menacing frame. The rookies, most of whom had little experience in combat, as well as sensing ambient mana or killing intent, were all sweating profusely. Some of them even knelt on the ground, unable to stomach the pressure from the older redhead.

The other redhead, meanwhile, fared little better.

Perseus's face was as sickly white as snow, with a large liquid stain enlarging around his crotch area. Sir Seirios hadn't even moved one step, and the younger man, barely grown away from his boyhood, was already nearing an unconscious state by sheer fear.

A growl escaped the mouth under those bright silver eyes.

"Pick it up, Perseus."

"S-S-Sir, I'm not sure…"

**"Pick. It. Up."**

Gulping audibly and with shaking legs, in front of the eyes of most of the ship's other inhabitants, Perseus did as he was told. Immediately, he lurched forwards due to the sheer weight of the broadsword, tumbling a few steps before steadying himself.

He tried his best to avoid looking up; he felt he'd instantly take off and jump into the sea if he did.

"P-Please wait!"

At that moment, a tanned young girl, one of his fellow rookies, rushed in the middle of Sir Seirios's line of sight, arms outstretched.

Nervousness was audible from the girl- no, young woman's voice. "Honored Sir Seirios! I-I'm sure there's just a misunderstanding! T-There wasn't any one of us who would antagonize y-your esteemed se-"

Her words died in the middle of her throat as the S-Ranker's face suddenly appeared very close to her.

Slowly, _painfully_ slowly, she tried to back off half a step, but he immediately cut in. "Move aside, Princess Andromeda. This is between me and him."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Y-You know who I am?!"

However, instead of answering, he only seemed more and more irritated the longer she stalled and covered for the man behind her.

"N-No, t-that doesn't matter r-right now! Sir, please, show some kindness…!"

"Why should I?" His voice was rough, completely unlike the tone he used earlier when he mingled with her and the rest of the rookies. "Perhaps you should ask _him_ whether he'll like your protection or not…"

"Still, t-that's…!"

\- Tap.

Perseus's hand firmly clasped on one of her shoulders, gently pushing her to one side. Despite, as a result, he was now within two steps of the frightening Sir Seirios, his pride as a man couldn't stomach being protected by a woman. He didn't have the stomach to make another smart-ass comment, though.

"It's fine," he managed to grit out. "I was… naïve. Let me handle this."

"You'll die, you fool!" She hissed in a low voice, though clearly Sir Seirios could hear their conversation very well. "Even if he doesn't finish you off here, you'll be heavily penalized by the Guild! Don't be rash and apologize already!"

"Does it look like he wants one?" Perseus hurriedly said. "He… wants me to proof myself. With this blade. Am I right, Sir Seiri- LOOK OUT!"

He forcefully shoved Andromeda to one side, partially shielding her with his back, and parried the faster-than-fast strike from the older man. The shock immediately numbed his arm, despite him feeling he did divert the attack's power somewhat.

In the next instant, the sensation of Andromeda's weight in his arms disappeared.

After flailing his head about to look for her, he caught sight of her laid across Sir Seirios's shoulder, before he gently deposited the confused woman back among the rookies' crowd. She's clearly shaken from the brief exchange of steel, but despite the S-Ranker turning his back towards Perseus, he was sure he had a 0% chance of landing a hit, even if he used Hades's helmet.

Besides, how should he use it, anyway? Or the other weapons he received from the gods?

"A wasted movement," Sir Seirios commented to both Andromeda and Perseus. "If you paid closer attention, my attack would've missed her completely, _boy_. And you, young woman," he glared at Andromeda, who shrunk back in response, "do not get in between my blades. **Do. You. Understand?**"

He turned around without waiting for a reply, focusing fully on Perseus.

"Now, show me the mettle you had earlier – the one you'll use to kill the 'monster'."

* * *

My memories are filled by the image of a long, violet hair.

Her tall body, more statuesque than any professional models. Her soft breasts, which she uses to envelop my penis with equal hunger and love. Her bespectacled eyes, beautiful and shining like jewels, with a red rune adorning her forehead.

I still remember the sensation of her soft inner folds, strong enough to crush an unprepared man's member, but perfect for my Reinforced body. The guilt in my heart, where lingering affection for another violet-haired young woman lies, only makes the pleasure that much greater. I'm sure it's much stronger from her side, judging from her slovenly blushing face; her usual cool expression completely missing.

Obviously, this isn't my memories, but those of 'Shirō Emiya'.

The first meeting between the two lovers, forbidden in every way, was near enough fatal it could be a constant source of trauma. Instead, through their own trials and tribulations, situations brought them together in a strange romance before their fated final battle against the Holy Grail of that era.

In another future reality, the scene of her, wearing modern long-sleeves and jeans, looked every part of a housewife in a kitchen, where Shirō often playfully bickered with her in regards of right of use of it. Their skills were so far apart, though, so she usually relented and enjoyed his craft instead.

I have never met Medusa.

Yet, these clips move me so much.

So much so I'm going to set this piece of young cowardly ass, who looks so much like Shinji Matō, alight in flames for daring to attack her, and considered her simply as a target to kill, or a mere beast.

Just a 'thing'. Nothing more than the gods' plaything, cursed forever to reach the 'bad endings'.

To be honest, those jerks really do seem to be allergic to human beings' happiness. That's one of the main reason behind my previous visit to this era, though many years to the future from now: to set humanity free from the chains of the Age of Gods, and usher in the Age of Heroes fully.

The latter has its own negatives, sure, but it gives humanity far greater freedom and chances to set things right by themselves. That is the whole point to it.

What drives me even madder is the person Perseus will become after he kills Medusa. Hailed as a hero, saving cities, becoming royalty and ancestor to an entire kingdom… There will be little he can't achieve, but the trials he went through to get there has indeed made him a better man, apparent with his attitude when he's summoned in the future as a Servant.

A kind, attentive man with a slight arrogant streak to those disagreeing with him, Perseus, the hero, strives to heal his ill Master without any recompense. One look at the young sick boy, and he instantly decides so. No hesitation or further thoughts; simply… heroic acts. That's all.

But this young man in front of him bears little trace to that grown man, to the point I even wonder if they're the same person or not. I haven't had a hand in his development yet, which means… he's originally this way, in any case. Do his future obstacles shape him the way he will be?

Anyway, I am angry at the fact he didn't even consider his actions, nor the consequences of them. _"Still a boy,"_ many people will comment, but his similarity with Shinji Matō at this point, in regards of the negative aspects of his personality, is uncanny to the point I doubt he has even the capacity to change.

After our conversation earlier, my first thought of him was, _'**This?** This is the hero, Perseus? What a fucking joke.'_

An immature, selfish boy. His goal is inherently good: to protect his mother from his uncle's perverted and evil advances. Yet, he somehow lost grip of that and was overwhelmed by the 'grandeur', or some other bullshit young people call it these days, of adventuring. A dangerous proposition, and one which many rookies are overwhelmed by… along with one I expect a person of his caliber – or his future self's – to not get affected by.

The sword strike just now has just confirmed it further.

Unnecessary movements and decisions. A proud folly to send Andromeda away – he should've worked together with her, or even rallied the rookies, against me – because of old-fashioned ideals. The fact he even left his weapons – all Noble Phantasms – back near his bunk without a single one prepared by his side.

In fact, I've given up on trying to verbally convince him to work with me to save Medusa. His skull is too thick for it.

_'And he's screaming while charging at me. Idiot.'_

Like the amateur he is, he hefts the broadsword – clearly much heavier and imbalanced against his body – and rushes in a straight line.

I simply dispel the Traced sword and let the sudden loss of weight send him tumbling to one side of the ship.

"U-Uwah!"

He even screams comically when he does so.

"You don't even deserve the weapons you have, since you've abandoned them in the first place," I growl, perhaps too harshly. "Will you be like this when you face the monster, later on? Hm?"

However, the sound of something cutting the wind makes its way towards Perseus. Clearly, one of the rookies – most likely Andromeda – has thrown and lent him their weapon.

Now with a normal sword in one hand, he at least resembles the low-ranked adventurer he's supposed to look, complete with the nervous tic of trembling knees.

"Alright, who did that?" I glance at the crowd of rookies, and Andromeda – as I predicted – proudly replies, "It's me, Sir!"

The others around her, including the aging ship captain, think she's completely crazy for admitting as such, but they're all equally shocked when I simply smile at her gently. "Good choice." I turn around to face the still-scared Perseus, pointing out, "That's the sort of state of mind you need when you face your enemies. Do you have that at the moment? Or perhaps learn it on the fly?"

I don't even let him think of an answer, as my fist has already connected with his face, sending him flying out to the ocean.

"Ruminate on it down there, _boy_."

* * *

**Glossary Update!**

* * *

**A**

**Adventurer's Guild**

At this time, wild beasts and mystical monsters ran rampant, although efforts over the decades managed to confine them relatively far away from civilization. However, this prolonged drive off their natural habitat caused them to become even fiercer, especially since the kingdoms surrounding Greece were also limiting their ecosystem, causing problems all over the place. The places where all sorts of monstrosities gathered were considered great taboo for the people, as the sheer concentration of Phantasmal Species and Mystery caused these areas to terraform to become a place inhospitable to humans.

Fearing extinction if these beings weren't kept in check, the various city-states banded together to create an institution which not only protected the common people, slay beasts, brave new frontiers, and so on, but also assisted them in difficult tasks such as gathering rare materials, bodyguarding VIPs, and hunting down criminals beyond the scope of national law. This was known as the [Adventurers' Guild], currently managed by the wise centaur Chiron. It operated independently to the city-states, giving them the flexibility to perform acts initially constrained by existing laws. Because of Chiron's connections, he managed to steer the Guild avoid having to answer to anyone, not even to Olympus.

Generally, the members of the [Adventurers' Guild], called adventurers, were separated into 6 categories based on their strength and achievements:

S-Rank: international heroes and walking 'natural disasters'; A-Rank: famous national heroes and one-man armies; B-Rank: well-known heroes and local protector; C-Rank: experienced members and skilled specialists; D-Rank: common workers with the highest number; E-Rank: rookies & part-timers

* * *

**P**

**Polis (plural: poleis)**

The definition of a large city-state in Mycenaean Greece, big and rich enough to have one or more main temples dedicated to one or more patron deities. For the Olympians, who thrived on the people's worship and prayers, poleis were a large source of their strength, and the foundation of the Mystery of their Divine Essences. More poleis meant more power, and a damaged, ransacked, or a completely destroyed one was akin to crippling the patron deities of said polis. Normally, a head priest or priestess was appointed within each main temple to act as the deities' spokesperson, though this arrangement was known to vary during times of war.

Athena: Athens, Sparta, Syracuse, Troy; Apollo: Sparta, Delphi, Thebes; Zeus: Olympia; Eros: Thespiae; Poseidon: Atlantis, Corinth, Thebes; Dionysius: Thebes; Hera: Argos, Samos; Helios: Rhodes; Artemis: Ephesus; Aphrodite: Cyprus, Corinth, Athens, Alexandria; Ares: Sparta


	3. Soothing Nightmares

**Hey, everyone! I'm glad you all enjoyed the last chapter, to the point of discussing sensitive, spoiler-potential things in the reviews section. That makes me happy! There's some things - apart from my obvious elation - I want to talk about, really. I forgot to speak to you, the new readers to this series, about some of the concepts I'm using in this story. Forgive me if I don't go into too much detail on them, because they've already been explained in the previous story, HV-S01: RKR, which you all can read in my Bio. Its Glossary is worth checking out for some of the concepts I'm talking about.**

**I've also made some changes to the Glossary Update in Ch. 2, owing to this site's infuriating inability to hold a paragraph mark or a list. Check it out! Hopefully, it'll make for easier reading.**

**Also, thank you for the harem suggestions. The main pairings are listed on the story's pairing list, though I won't discount any flings in the future. You have no idea how close some of you are to the mark! Right, let's just get to the mailbag:  
death0887: ****You sort of answered your own question there. Yes, I'm trying to stick to the historical Greek culture, hubris, legends, and trend, and I want to showcase how Shirou is adapting to those in future chapters, with all the mistakes he will make. Remember, this is in an era where public r*** can be considered acceptable under the right circumstances, so expect more extreme actions from all characters not get called out, because it's simply accepted by the populace.  
miguelgiuliano: You have no idea how close your wishes are to coming true! ****Regarding Perseus's and Herakles's timeline, I'm choosing to portray them as an AU version of their historical selves for story purposes. I realize Perseus was at least two generations above Herakles. In this story, they're related through Zeus, yes, but no more than that. Also, I'm not going to go there in regards to Perseus's story. He will be a side character in this one. As I explained in the Ch. 2 AN, the family tree of him and Herakles will be jumbled around to make them of the same generation. Still related, but no longer conforming to historical canon.  
Guy2506: ****Thank you for your continued patronage. Firstly, I decided to skim over the side characters in RKR because I felt it's starting to take away from the main characters. The 'me' in the past didn't have the experience or ability to consistently weave side character developments with main characters' plots as well as I or you would've liked. I hope this new story will be more to your liking. Also, regarding your critique of Broken Paladin's HV-E01, I do think it's a fair criticism. However, it is, after all, a spin-off, and they cannot put as much effort into it as their main stories. It's more of short snippets of the other Heroic Vessel, if you get what I mean.  
AznPuffyHair: The '****Shirō Emiya' you asked about is inspired from one particular ending in the original F/SN, in the HF Route. Regarding demi-humans, don't worry! There'll be a Glossary Update for that soon, at the right time.  
Hero of Justice Roxas, warrior of six blades, ******VGBlackWing**: I'm sorry for not being able to answer your questions, because ******that's spoiler territory! You will have to wait for it!****

**Phew! A bit of a stuffed mailbox, there! Hopefully you all will write to me with the same fervor regarding this chapter!**

* * *

Andromeda looked at Sir Seirios cautiously, who was taking stock of Perseus's items and weapons. The other rookies were also doing the same, though less wary than her due to their more distanced viewpoint than hers. Still, they made a sizeable circle around him, hoping to get a few tips and tricks from the esteemed S-Ranker.

Besides, no one really cared this man just socked the rather arrogant and prickly Perseus. Inwardly, she even asked herself the question, _'Why should I bother with that loser, really?'_

Sir Seirios did very well explaining himself about last night's encounter, explaining how he got into the mindset that Perseus was unworthy to even become an adventurer, and was better served being someplace else. Plus, he even dragged Perseus back up, all shivering and pale due to the seawater, and who was now resting in a separate chamber, generously provided by the crew members.

"Sir-"

"Just 'Shirō' will do," he gently smiles, his… almost demonic expression from last night felt like a dream. "And that applies to all of you. Don't be so stiff; aren't we on adventures? The times of our lives are here, to be made full off…"

A cacophony of childish giggles agrees with him, the atmosphere tangibly relaxing.

However, Andromeda didn't join in on their merry. She stared off to one side, to the direction of the wall where Perseus's temporary room was located.

"Are you still angry at me, Princess?"

She flushed when Sir Sei- _Shirō _spoke, having spent a good part of the last year forging this identity of hers, away from the hustle and bustle of the throne.

"P-Please do not tease me. It's unbecoming of an esteemed person such as yourself," she brusquely cut. "I… I-I am not angry, per se… Just, perhaps…"

"Disagreeing with my methods?"

She could feel the eyes of the other young adventurers around her, asking the same question.

She lowered her gaze, letting her well-groomed dark brown bangs cover her expression for an instant. "…perhaps."

\- Flick.

"Ow!" Andromeda rubbed her forehead, red from a wood splinter fired from one of Shirō's fingers.

"You should be more confident in yourself, Princess. Where's all the bravado last night gone?" He teased, resulting in simultaneous smirks across others in the room. "There's plenty attributes which make a good adventurer, if you want my advice. 'Measured confidence' is one of them, whether you're taking a positive or negative decisions."

"…understood," she grumbled, clearly hadn't cleared her misgivings regarding Perseus's treatment. "However… was last night truly necessary? If you're so opposed to him doing this… quest, I think he'll relent and accept your advice if it's you who's asking."

Shirō shook his head. "It's not a matter of accepting advice, but a general viewpoint regarding everything in life. We… are powerful, yes, thus the more emphasis on the responsibility to handle our strength. It entails not only researching your objective's details, but also understanding the motive behind it as well. Do not be mindless soldiers who die at the Guild's beck and call."

The room went silent as everyone present digested his words.

Then, he added, "The… 'monster' Perseus was tasked to kill, wasn't a monster at all. Take this event as an example. She – yes, _she_ – was merely a victim of the gods' curse, created due to their own imperfection and carelessness. An innocent person like that… what do you think I should do, Princess Andromeda?"

"That…" She paused momentarily, before confidently answering, "Then I shall research a method to lift the curse, thus turning her back into something harmless to those around her, no?"

"Indeed, correct on all accounts." He leaned his head to one side, to where Perseus's room was located. "Perseus didn't even _attempt_ to think as such, nor has he such a desire to do so, even after I explained things to him. A mindless brat, easily manipulated and blinded by simple objectives. Narrow-minded, and not looking at the bigger picture… No, for desiring to forever be cooped up in his little mind, scared of the responsibility of knowing the bigger things… What should I do to such a person, then?"

"…kill him?" A random voice answered, eliciting Andromeda's glare. It was a mousy young boy, who instantly shrunk under it.

"And that was what I was trying to do last night," Shirō defended. "In the face of death, one's true colors will be revealed. What he showed me was an inexperienced, careless, and arrogant young man who failed to even take his surroundings into consideration."

Andromeda pursed her lips together, frowning in thought.

"Seeing you making such a face makes me think you've fallen in love with him, Princess," Shirō teased.

Once again, she flushed, though it was accompanied by a screaming denial this time.

* * *

A furious series of paper-flipping noise filled the royal library, where two young ladies were currently located. Though young-looking and delicate, with no traces of the strain of scholarly life, their concentration was immense – or rather, one of theirs was, with the other seemingly just supervising.

The contents of the documents the serious one was reading was… an epic?

"Fuwaaa… As expected, Lord Jason is strong!" She murmured a dreamy, feminine voice, the heated gaze in her eyes matching it. "Er, should I use his 'codename'… Ugh… W-What if we meet in the future… K-Kyah…!"

A sharp kick to her shin broke her out of her idolizing stupor, coming from her teacher.

Medea tearfully rubbed the kicked part, complaining, "I-It hurts… You don't have to do that…"

Hecate merely returned to silence, her short teal hair swaying lightly before settling down. She actually looked even younger than her student, Princess Medea of Colchis, with an overflowing white coat and hat nearly swallowing her entire petite figure.

"Muu…" Medea cutely pouted, before going back to reading the exciting tales of various adventurers, particularly her favorite: Shirō.

Born Jason of Iolchos, his identity as an adventurer named 'Σείριος' was an open secret among nobles and royalties of Greece's various city states and kingdoms. It was a fitting name, meaning 'scorching life', and what a life he went through indeed. Carving through enemies, saving villages and towns, befriending many heroes…

Medea internally squealed just by thinking of her idol.

Naturally, she had never met him. Cooped up here, under the watchful gaze of her overprotective father, these epic tales were her only connection to the world outside.

Oh, how she longed for an adventure, too, just like the heroes detailed in the library of her family. Well, recently, it had become her own personal use, given how much the things she ordered from merchants filled the room, pushing older tomes and grimoires to one side.

Besides, she'd mastered most of them already, under Hecate's silent but attentive teachings, so she no longer had any real need of them. Even right now, aside from the bundle of parchment in front of her, several more were floating gently in the air, moving right into her field of vision as desired.

It might seem a simple telekinetic spell, but maintaining several continuous streams of its usage, along with the ease and efficiency she had, made it all the more impressive. Hecate had quietly mentioned to her she's now the best magus in her generation, which elated her for some time… until she learned there's still much stronger beings who're _juuusssttt _older than her. By a day, a month, or something.

Damn it.

Reading more did improve her mood, however.

Other than the epics, Lord Jason's… No, Sir Seirios's name was often mentioned in political documents, mostly from Colchian spies who managed to dig some information from the people around him. There were rumors his uncle, the King of Iolchos, was displeased with the fame he's consistently piling up. Apparently, an informal vote's resulted in an overwhelming desire for him to usurp the throne, since the news of Pelias's misdeeds before he became king spread.

The royal line of Iolchos was supposed to go down directly to Lord Jason, yet his father was banished to a dungeon for some bullshit political reasons. Yes, despite Medea not reaching a marriageable age yet – _just_ – she understood just enough to recognize a power political play by a power-hungry monarch.

Admittedly, from reading other reports regarding Iolchos and the Thessaly area as a whole, Pelias had his greedy eyes on more than just his current throne, too.

'_Um! This kind of suspense political novels are good, too!'_ She childishly cheered in her mind, appreciating the work done by the writers, the information gatherers, and the editors to put together such a compelling work.

These words and sentences and paragraphs were her eyes and ears to the outside world. They spoke of kingdoms, of heroes, of villains, of peasants. They described Lord Jason, Lady Atalanta, Guild Master Chiron, Heroic Herakles, and others with such beauty she could replay their scenes of battle and adventure over and over again in her head, accompanying her in her large and lonely bedroom at night.

O, how she wished for someone who'd just whisk her away from this place…

Little did she know such wistful thinking could often lead to large impacts.

* * *

\- Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!

As Andromeda admired the craftsmanship on Perseus's weapons – 'Noble Phantasms', as Sir Shirō called them – a large grey owl suddenly assaulted the room. She lightly screamed, along with the other rookies' startled attitude, but the bird – closer in size to a fully-grown eagle than an actual owl – swiftly landed on Sir Shirō's outstretched arm.

'_I-It's claws… are pretty long…' _She internally winced, seeing the large talons gripping the S-Ranker's forearm quite tightly. Amazingly, it didn't even manage to scratch the skin, much less draw blood… though it's probably a 'normal' thing with people as powerful as he was.

"Athena…!" Sir Shirō tightly whispered, his expression turning grim instantly.

He abruptly got up and rushed towards the end of the deck, but Andromeda stopped him with a yell.

"H-Hey! W-What about these weapons?!" She loudly presented the beautifully-crafted sack – Kibisis, she noted internally – at him, waving it with an exaggerated flail. "If you're going to help Milady Athena… shouldn't these very weapons, gifted to Perseus, be of some use?!"

However, as he conjured up another greatsword in mid-air, just like last night, he smiled reassuringly at her.

"Don't worry. I got a lot more in stock."

* * *

How long had it been since Athena was injured like this? The last Titanomachy? Even then, she was fighting alongside her family and colleagues, creating the sort of chaos which was indefensible anyway.

This time, it was in single combat. _'Was it Ares…?'_ She thought, bringing her mind back to her redheaded (and hot-headed) sibling, a fellow deity of warfare. His authority was far purer than hers, however, being the physical embodiment of power and destruction symbolized by both physical and military presence.

It must be a few centuries ago, when their young ego and boiling blood drew them together in a serious duel. Perhaps the cause was piffling and petty, as with most cases in their squabbles, so much so she couldn't even remember the reason or the details of the fight.

Still, it was the final time she was heavily injured in single combat… until today.

The crimson barrier around Sarpedon intensified into a mist, biting into her skin and exposed flesh. One side of her stomach was gouged open, with her arm the only thing holding her internal organs from spilling out. Her natural divine healing ability was locked in a losing battle against the red mist, and a pained, bloodied cough only made matters worse. The tips of her fingers and toes were already solidifying into stones.

…which meant her end was near.

Her, _Athena_? The Goddess of Wisdom… would have her life ended here?

'_I shouldn't have given Gorgoneion to that brat…'_

Where did it all go wrong?

Her intellect, dulled by the pain and loss of divine essence, was fading in its function.

It shouldn't be this way. Even if she was injured, a goddess's body was a far cry from those of humans, even demigods. Deities didn't need bodily organs to survive, as they embodied 'concepts', which was as abstract as it could be. Battling them was akin to a battle of foundations and ideas as much as physical combat, and the victor would be determined by the one in possession of the most robust understanding of said 'concepts'.

[Wisdom]. [Warfare]. [Arts]. [Freedom].

The tenets which constructed the goddess 'Athena' were blown away, just like that, by a single fatal strike from the Gorgon.

It shouldn't be this way. Athena… killed by a being who could be called her own _daughter_.

When the Gorgon sisters were born, all creatures, man or not, lavished them with praise for their beauty and allure. Inadvertently, there would be those with evil intentions, and eventually there were several intruders coming to Sarpedon to do vile things to these girls. Athena trusted Medusa to safeguard her sisters, since, as a result of her defect, she possessed tremendous strength in recompense.

However, Poseidon then fell in love with the budding Medusa. Humans worshiped eternity and immortality, and favored Stheno and Euryale as a result. Poseidon, possessing the same ageless properties as the two elder Gorgons, lusted after Medusa's ability to metamorphose into a seductive adult woman.

Sensing this, Athena erected a barrier to prevent his entry, and taught Medusa many ways to fight off any advances from deities.

Her hazy mind conjured images of her, and her three daughters sitting around her, as attentive and adorable as violet-furred puppies, and happily listening to their 'mother'.

'_It's unfortunate… I shall never see their smiles again…'_

Despite all she's done for them… Protecting them with Anti-Divine barriers, spreading rumors of a man-eating monster to keep humans away from them, negotiating behind closed doors with Chiron and his adventurers…

Even after all these countermeasures, must fate be so cruel and unforgiving?

She never wanted to take the third option. Yes, a 'hero' coming here and saving everyone would be the best, but only _if_ he could do so without causing significant injuries to Medusa.

Yet, she was too late with _all _of her options.

What a goddess of wisdom she was.

\- Boom! Boom! Boom!

The Gorgon's movements were huge and heavy, but deceptively fast. With every step it took in search of Athena's broken form, it covered vast amounts of ground, and it's only a matter of time before the goddess's True Magic's concealment would fail under the beast's senses and strikes. This was precisely how it caught her off-guard, which wasn't supposed to happen despite Sarpedon actively suppressing her divine powers.

\- BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

It's getting closer, enough that the tremors from its steps were strong enough to hurt her insides.

Over the centuries, the number of times she had shed her tears could be counted in one hand.

It seemed today would be the very last time.

\- CRASH!

"You look like shit."

The voice she expected to hear from the least was there, hugging her lithe form and instantly took a giant bound outside of the Gorgon's kill zone.

"Jason... of Iolchos..." she breathed out, before wincing and wheezing in pain.

"Bear with it for a while. I'll jump once more."

The shockwave this time was bigger than the last one, drawing a large cough of clotted blood from her throat, staining his rugged shirt. By the time they landed on… _something_, she could barely keep her consciousness afloat.

Earlier, once she was hit by a fatal blow, she forced out the last of her great Magic into three owl familiars, which sped off through space and time to contact all three S-Rankers in Greece. Unfortunately, the person who came was the one she got along with the least.

* * *

'_Well, I'll take it nonetheless…'_

I take in several deep breaths, while floating on Ig-Alima off the shore of Sarpedon. In the horizon, a gigantic beast is rampaging around the center of the island, throwing trees and boulders and shockwaves into the air.

Gently, I lay down Athena's slim form on the wide part of the blade, which is easily as large as the Gorgon in its entirety. Now, naturally, it becomes a bitch to handle in most battles, but I needed a floating platform to keep her safe, for now.

It's honestly amazing to see her body in one piece. Despite her Conceptual Weight as one of the chief deities of Olympus, the Gorgon, as it is now, matches her quite well in that regard, leaving physique differences to be the crucial factor, especially under Blood Fort Andromeda's influence. Athena, who looks like a late teenage girl with long silver hair and matching white dress, now looks like a half-broken twig, with only a few large strands of muscles holding her upper and lower half together.

This fleshy vessel of hers, like the other deities of Olympus, was intrinsically tied to her Divine Essence, a series of concepts which she held authority over. This closeness to humans, for better or for worse, allowed the Olympians to rule over them better than their progenitor, either the Titans or the Protogenoi, which were simply physical representations of nature's law, and as such, abstract.

Unfortunately, it meant there's an easier target for their enemies to actually hit, which was the case right now.

The Gorgon's single, glowing eye finally catches my form, and it roars.

\- ▄▄██████████!

My stomach tightened in both pity and regret.

These Pure Eyes of mine are able to catch the mangled figures of Stheno and Euryale, still lying there in pieces on the beach. Their Divine Essences are long gone, a mark of how late and unprepared I was before.

I grit my teeth in frustration. No one learns from success, only from failures, yes, but it doesn't mean I have to appreciate or like them in the first place.

Yet, the person I am angriest with is myself. There is little sense in blaming the innocent Medusa, who's the first actual victim here. I don't know much why Athena will go all this way to solve this incident herself, while she's spoken of as the culprit of this mess, but her spilling Divine Essence on Ig-Alima speaks for itself. As long as she's willing to be responsible for this incident, then that's all I need to come to her rescue.

Inhale. Exhale.

Pushing the self-defeatist attitude to one side, I jump off Ig-Alima's wide flat side, casually strolling into Blood Fort Andromeda's area of influence. Its effect is stronger than the memories of 'Shirō Emiya' suggests, showcasing that getting into the Gorgon's line of sight is a foolish move, no matter how high one's Magic Resistance is.

A combination of the two… say, 'debuffs' were probably what did Athena in so easily. It's quite ironic in that sense, given the rumors of Medusa's curse coming from Athena herself.

"Hang in there, Medusa…" I whisper to myself, launching myself head-first towards her gigantic form.

* * *

It's dark.

Since she was small, Medusa had always admired the duality of the reality around her. Light and dark. Day and night. Life and death. Perfection and flaw. Just like she and her sisters, neither fated to live forever in happiness and peace.

But now, she was drowning in darkness so black, she could feel her soul itself being dissolved slowly, piece by piece.

There was no light. No sound. No solid objects to grasp, nor the feeling of either gravity or wind against her skin. There was only black black black black black black black black black black black black black black black black black black black black black black black.

Her memories of the past, of all the pleasant things which had happened in her short life, were disappearing one by one like smoke. The images of her beautiful sisters, Stheno and Euryale, whose face and body remained frozen in time, forever the ideal goddesses. The patient voice of her 'mother', the goddess Athena, speaking of things outside the island: of majestic gardens, delicious food, dreamy poetry, and brave heroes, lulling her to sleep every night.

"…"

What was her name again? Was she a goddess? Was she human? Was she an animal? Was she good? Or evil? Chaotic, or orderly?

'Me'-something, was it? Or something else?

A constant stream of energy flowed out from her body, weakening her resistance against her soul's demise by the second.

There was no pain. Instead, the dreadfulness of 'nothingness' permeated through her bones and nerves, eliciting a constant silent scream from her consciousness. Whether her mouth responded to such stimulus, she didn't even know.

No, there was a word coming into her increasingly dying mind.

'Despair'.

* * *

This is as difficult as expected.

The Gorgon's large frame is completely enveloped in sturdy dark tentacles, perhaps the source of the 'snake hair' part of Medusa's legend. Their violent and swift strikes easily tear up Sarpedon, even after my parries nullifying some of the blows. If this keeps up, it's no exaggeration to say it can capsize this piece of land, given enough time.

Kanshō and Bakuya flash amongst them, their Anti-Magic boosting property relieving its Mystic Eyes' effects somewhat. Despite that, and with my Possession Magecraft active, I find myself constantly failing to establish enough footing for Ghostlight Firefly and reach my top speed.

Fortunately, it _is _enough to prevent me from slowly turning into stone. As a Heroic Vessel, my Conceptual Weight slightly overwhelms the Gorgon's, now a Mythical Beast-ranked being.

Its large single eye shines ominously crimson, like a false lunar eclipse among the dust it's kicked up, blocking any normal means of 'seeing' it. However, the Mystic Eyes of Petrification needs no direct visual contact to activate, merely for the user's opponents to be within its sensing range. In short, Gorgon is only required to 'know' where I am, not necessarily 'see' me.

Its tentacles are doing a very fine job of doing so, perhaps doubling as a sensory organ as well.

'_Not yet…'_ I endure internally, as yet another series of dozens of lashes rain down around me. Each strike is strong enough to flatten a goddess such as Athena, therefore I can't be careless.

Standing here, deflecting everything like some fuckin' movie-like swordmaster _is_, though.

\- ▄▄██████████!

"You know, that's getting annoying, Medusa…!"

Reinforcing my body to the limit, instead of parrying, I dodge for the first time in a long while, allowing two tentacles to slam either side of me. Hundreds more are waiting for me up ahead, so I can't get complacent.

"Let's start."

Four other pairs of Kanshō and Bakuya appear around me, spinning fast enough to transform them visually into black and white disks, then I shoot them forward into the swarm of tree-trunk sized tentacles. Despite their speed, they lack enough weight and momentum to cut through fully, merely creating large gashes into the tentacles, which naturally heal themselves faster than I can cut them.

That's fine, though. I don't need this technique's vast destructive power, or its wide-ranging area of attack.

It's fortunate Cybele, the name of said Mystic Eyes, can't influence inorganic things as well as their counterpart. Therefore, Kanshō and Bakuya's self-attracting force field is barely affected, even more so of these perfected versions, instead of inferior copies from EMIYA's Unlimited Blade Works.

* * *

Trace, on.  
TYPE Input → Support  
Processing mana at B-level…  
Reality Marble DISABLED  
ENGAGE Phantasm, Overload

**Broken Wing, Void Realm  
**~ Twin Swords of Separation and Union ~

* * *

I cast Possession on myself, calling on the spirits of the deceased husband-and-wife blacksmiths.

In the future, there will be a propulsion method exploiting the inherent attractive and repulsive forces of magnets. Being invisible, it will levitate large metallic objects, while also able to manipulate high-density energy such as plasma, before launching them at tremendous speed.

It's this concept I'm taking and bastardizing with an array of Kanshō and Bakuya.

They fly forward, forging a path directly towards Gorgon's singular, house-sized Cybele, and cast their invisible pulling forces upon my body.

My body… One which is made of steel.

"**I am the bone of my sword."**

Sword Burst activates, creating a force sufficient for the first stage of the launch. I let the rows of blades, alternating black and white either side, take care of the rest.

The wind resistance is immense as I pass through the sound barrier more than once, almost tearing the flesh off my cheeks. However, the pain and exertion will be worth it if I can bring Medusa back from her crazed, monstrous state, so the beautiful, happy smile I saw in the memories 'Shirō Emiya' can return.

Even with a Reinforced brain, I struggle to keep up with the sudden burst of speed.

'_The timing is… NOW!'_

With my joints and muscles creaking dangerously, a rainbow-colored energy starts to gather in my outstretched hand, reaching almost desperately towards the open maw of the Gorgon.

"BREAK!"

I can barely hear my shout, as the vacuum formed around me fails to convey much of the sound energy, but the Unlimited Blade Works receives my request nonetheless.

**Rule Breaker  
**_~ Binding Destroyer ~_

With a similar amount of energy as an actual falling comet, the curse of the Gorgon is lifted.

…alongside with most of its upper body, now turned into fine mist.

* * *

The light was nothing larger than a pinprick, yet among the overwhelming darkness around Medusa, she could 'see' it very clearly. Her eyes had long failed her, those bewitching pair of jewels she was so proud of, thus the question of how she could 'see' this light went unanswered.

Honestly, she didn't even care.

With the sensation of reaching out with her arms – no doubt having disappeared as well – she struggled to move towards the exit. Her struggles became more and more desperate, as her relative slowness, combined with the thinning and closing of said light, meant she was soon overwhelmed with another blow of despair.

Even after all she's endured and fought through, why did this one thing also get taken away from her?

Her 'fingertips' just missed the very last motes of light, and everything went silent again.

\- ██████▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄_...!

'_A… voice…?'_

The change was immediate.

It felt like her own 'self', crumbling away into pieces, was sucked in together faster than she could think, making herself whole again.

Even her returning consciousness was unable to process what had happened, as the previous string of light suddenly beamed across her body, as powerful and large as Apollo's rays.

"…argh!"

She could feel her dried throat protesting at her sudden shout, only managing to let out a strangled yelp as a result.

She tried to get up, but abandoned that thought once pain, akin to hundreds of spear jammed up into every orifice of her body, wrecked her physique. Plus, there was a gentle, soft hands holding down her head and shoulders, urging her to rest.

A familiar pair of hands.

Soft, yet strong. Delicate, yet well-trained. Stiff in places, yet meticulously groomed.

"Mo… ther…" She managed to squeeze out one word, before a strong cupping of her jaws forced them open – not that she could offer much resistance anyway – and a stream of cool, refreshing water flew into her mouth. She gulped the liquid ravenously, just like how a soon-to-be-corpse would do in a desert when near an oasis, almost to the point of choking.

She expected to hear Athena's reassuring and educated words soothing her, telling her everything was okay, and it was all a bad dream.

However, the tone she heard was near-enough alien to her.

"Forgive me, Medusa…"

There was no trace of the strength and fervor Athena had when she held her 'classes' with the Gorgon sisters. Instead, large droplets of tears were splashing down on Medusa's tender, childish cheeks, with an expression which could only be described as 'weak.'

Lips trembling. Cheeks loosening. Eyes watering, filled with regret.

The water tasted sweeter than anything she's ever consumed, including human meat.

"Medusa… _paidi mou_…" Athena sobbed, her voice clearly barely holding on from fully cracking. "Everything… was my fault… Forgive me…"

'_So… it wasn't a dream, after all…'_ Defeated, Medusa weakly thought. _'I… **am** a monster…'_

"Rest, for now," Athena, equally as weakly, gently closed Medusa's despairing eyes. "I shall pray for you."

* * *

In front of me, Athena tears a piece of flesh right off her thumb, drawing a great amount of blood. With deft hands, the red liquid transforms and snakes its way towards Medusa's forehead, tattooing a crooked letter on it. I distinctly remember, as 'Shirō Emiya', asking of its meaning; I've never gotten a proper answer.

A while later, the marking seeps deep into her brain, likely containing Cybele directly through the gateway to her soul from her brain. I have to test its effectiveness later.

Watching Medusa's tiny form being cradled by Athena, I exhale a breath of relief. Not for the hard battle earlier, no… but for the goddess's nature and personality.

Well, truth be told, I was expecting her to be a _gouroúna_.

Medusa's legend speaks of it all, of how Perseus, Athena, and Poseidon became her nemesis, and the source of her downfall from her paradise life with her sisters. Well, if being softly bullied every day, after one had worked their hardest to safeguard the others, could be described as a 'paradise', anyway.

I digress. Even the memories of 'Shirō Emiya' confirmed it; how her compatibility with one Sakura Matō coming from the similarities between their background, experience, and personality. Naturally, it was filled with grief, despair, and disgusting things – enough that this experienced me got nauseous just by thinking about it.

Have I done enough? To save her?

Perhaps I will find out in the near future.

Now, to go back to Athena, in the legend, she was 'jealous' of Poseidon's and her followers' admiration and worship of Medusa's beauty, whose mortality meant she was aging like fine wine, showcasing all the phases of an ideal woman. Combined with her appearance, it appeared not even deities were able to keep their hands off her, initiating Perseus's heroic saga of killing and decapitating 'the monster'.

However, even the first days I spent in this age showed me the legends weren't all they seemed at the surface. It's common knowledge to Heroic Vessels, but this trip made it clear: this wasn't the same reality I visited.

The deities were different. The heroes were different. The _world_ itself was different.

There was no guarantee this age wouldn't evolve into the future I visited, but the chances were quite small. My worries were mostly unfounded, yet I couldn't bring myself to take this very infinitesimal chance out of my equation.

Athena was clearly different. The stern-faced adult woman, with prim and proper curly hair tied up at the back of her head, was replaced by this late-age teenager with long flowing white-silver hair, almost the same color as my Pure Eyes. Athena's harsh, firm tone has no place here, with Medusa's prone form; now, it was soft-pitched and young, full of care and love.

Those two last qualities were ones I didn't believe the Athena I knew possessed. The 'Athena' in the future was cold and calculating, with scant abilities to empathize with human emotions and thought processes. She thought of peace, first and foremost, yes, but in a mechanical, calculating way the old version of Alaya did with the Counter Guardians.

This person in front of me, caressing the cheek of her sleeping 'daughter', having casted a spell to forcefully make Medusa rest, is simply… _different_.

Therefore, I have to approach her differently, as well.

"You should stop blaming yourself," I note, and her shoulders twitch. "You are _here_. Unlike most of your contemporaries in Olympus, that in itself is enough. I won't say it's 'perfect', but just… 'enough', no?"

She audibly sighs. "Perhaps… you are right. However, this regret shall stay with me, forever…"

"Regret of… what, exactly? That you helped with the Gorgon sisters' 'birth'? Or for coming in late to save Stheno and Euryale?"

"That I failed as a _mother_, Jason of Iolchos," she answered firmly. Even with her eyes still transfixed to Medusa, I know full well she's internally glaring at me. "I will not be a victim of the Cursed Cycle, like my father before me, and his father, and his father's father…"

My eyes soften. Clasping her shoulder to give her whatever reassurance I can, I add, "Then all I can say is 'good job'."

She smiles at me, full of bitterness and weakness. "Your words are encouraging."

"Just leave the 'of Iolchos' part off my name. I don't have any intention to be associated with _that man_. You may use my nickname, which I am sure you already know."

"Certainly."

We simply sit there for a while, with me allowing Athena to lean on my back for comfort and protection. There is no Goddess of War and Wisdom here, only a frightened, traumatized woman in need of companionship. As a Heroic Vessel, that is the least I can do.

After burying her two eldest 'daughters', and nearly losing the third one, even a deity is allowed a moment of… _mortality_ like this.

Suddenly, I can feel her tense up. I instinctively activate my Pure Eyes, cautiously scanning the horizon for any signs of trouble. My body remains relaxed, not out of aversion to cause panic in Athena further, but simply because it's the most optimum way to counterattack any incoming malice.

After a while, there's nothing coming out of Athena's mouth, and neither is from our surroundings.

"…what is it?"

"It's… something I wish to ask a favor of," she admits sheepishly, her ears turning a shade redder in embarrassment. "Forgive me for startling you."

I shrug.

Carefully, as if afraid to step on any imaginary lines, Athena says, "Please take care of Medusa."

I narrow my eyes for an instant, before my brain finally clicks on the reason behind the words she just said. However, she takes it as if I'm making an offended face, and so hurriedly explains.

"P-Perhaps I should explain the cause of all this incident…?"

"Please do," I urge.

Taking a deep breath, she starts her explanation, "Medusa… has a flaw since birth, robbing her of immortality, but granting her incredible strength. One which is out of this world, as you saw for yourself earlier. This flaw, contrasting her sisters' eternal beauty, is more attractive to… some _other people_, to put it mildly."

"I see."

"What triggered her transformation… There are things I must investigate first, before I am able to speak more firmly, but…"

"You already have some suspects."

She winces at my on-the-mark answer. "Correct."

Looking at her hesitations, I take a stab in the dark regarding the identity of the perpetrator. "Poseidon, is it?"

The tips of her lips tremble slightly, silently confirming my guess.

"As I said before, more time is necessary to supply you with the correct amount and type of information," she shifts the point. "I… cannot properly protect her, even with everything I have here. She will be safer… and _happier_ with you, Sir Seirios – no, _Shirō_."

"I'll stop you right there," I forcefully cut, gripping her face so she can't avert her eyes from the truth. "All the things you've done in her life makes you her _mother_. Do you think she will be happy if her mother, who she adores so much, has disappeared when she wakes up, abandoning her like her sisters?"

"That's not-"

"-fair, I know. _That's the point_. I shall be bold and say this: you are foolish to assume so, O Goddess of _Wisdom_."

She purses her lips, yet from the glint in her eyes, I can tell she's already set in her opinion.

I back off, giving her some space to continue. "It's not that I won't take her in, but as long as you understand... _you_, of all people, shouldn't make assumptions regarding other people's happiness. Especially with Medusa. Do we have an agreement?"

She closes her eyes, summoning the last ounce of her patience. "…if this agreement means you agree to safeguard and guide Medusa until I finish my duty."

For the first time in what seems a long while, I genuinely smile happily.

"Thank you for your understanding."

* * *

**Glossary Update!**

* * *

**D**

**Divine Essence**  
The core attributes of reality every deity is constructed from, as well as those they represent and hold authority over in the World. These are determined by humanity's perception, wishes, dreams, and ideals of said deities, which may evolve or devolve over time. Their base strength is based on the quality and quantity of humanity's 'belief' in them, no matter how obscure and subconscious it is.


	4. Wistful Departure

**Hi, everyone! I'm glad you all enjoyed the last chapter... well, perhaps not the killing part, but overall... Ah, let's move on. I'm happy for the suggestions for the potential harem members, but sadly, I'm not prepared or skilled enough to incorporate all of your suggestions into the story and make something I'm proud. of. Don't misunderstand; I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I'm purposely limiting the girls into the group mentioned in the relationship tag in the story properties above. It's been my plan from the start.**

**Also, I've also found out miguelgiuliano's name is constantly being deleted by FFN because of their ridiculous format for links. For you, brother, the mailbag portion from previous chapters has been fixed. Though I won't address his review in this mailbag section, as I've PM'ed him for it, I'll use this opportunity to promote his DXD fanfics (in Spanish). For those Spanish speakers and readers out there, check him out!**

**Now, the mailbag:  
Ragnas Bredvolts: ****Thank you for your review. Yes, that's exactly what I'm planning. TBH, this is my first proper crack at the harem genre, and I'm not confident in dealing with multiple characters in regards to romance. Much as I look down on modern-day LN which throws women at the MC willy-nilly, I appreciate the level of detail they sometimes go to to flesh out the girls, even though the relationship may look cheap.  
nanox876: [A part of his PM, regarding which universes this SHIROU has visited] ****The confirmed ones through HV-S01 and HV-S02 are Babylonian, Arthurian, another version of Ancient Greek, as well as being a part of Charlemagne's campaign (which was why he used the king's paladins' weapons at the end of RKR). Other stuff... I'm not ready to say yet. Please be patient!  
Ghostly: The feudal Japan setting's in the works! Though naturally I'll focus on this story first. I don't like spreading my attention across multiple stories.  
AnonymousABC: ****This Athena does come from that universe, yes, but SHIROU isn't. I'm sorry I can't divulge further details on it, but safe to say he's not from any of canon universes from other fandoms, but closer to my original created world.  
Schwarzer: ****Perhaps. As per the pairings tag mentioned, Athena won't be one of the main love interests.  
AznPuffyHair: Thank you for the comprehensive review! (1) The Rule Breaker is Reinforced, modified through Tracing, then Broken, giving it different durability properties than the original. At least, it can survive one strike like that. (2) SHIROU has been transported to Ancient Greece before, yes, but not this one. That's why he's slightly confused why he should redo this mission, because the timeline he's sent to before was after the Trojan War. I'll explain more in-story (3) The timeline in this story is modified. Both Medusa and Perseus should've been at least two generations above Herakles, but here she is still her young self, not yet grown. Athena's appearance takes inspiration from another fandom; I'll leave it to you to guess. Perseus and Andromeda will be a side show, so yes, there'll be more of their antics later.**  
**Kian Xki****: Thanks for the correction! Admittedly, that was a poor choice of word from me; perhaps 'prequel' would've been better, or just stick to 'first and second' and so forth...**

**Phew, that's a stuffed mailbag! Now, enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

For the second time in the past few days, the capital's Adventurers' Guild was eerily quiet. There were certainly some similarities between the two event, with two people being the center of attention as well, though the identity of the pair was completely different.

A lovely girl was sitting, clearly annoyed by the person in front of her, who's forced to a point where it wouldn't be strange to see him suddenly prostate to beg. Their status was high enough to warrant the others, both adventurers and guild staffs alike, to not meddle in their business, simply watching on from the side. One of them had the ingenuity to sneak out and contact the Guild Master some time ago, clearly feeling Chiron's the only person able to defuse the situation.

With a huff, the girl flicked her jade-and-gold hair to one side, letting the roughly-maintained mane fall behind her back. Her eyes had been narrowed in irritation for quite some time, perhaps bubbling on showing murderous intent, which wouldn't look out of place coming from those pair of slitted, predatory orbs, their shade a fusion of her hair colors.

"Please, Your Highness! Return to Arcadia at once!" The middle-aged messenger begged, his face close to tears.

Atalanta crossed her legs standoffishly, folding her arms as well for good measure.

"No."

This exchange had occurred twice already, with the elderly messenger repeating himself about the reason he came here. To be frank, there's some of those present who pitied him, coming all this way from the tropical paradise Arcadia, only to be turned away, but the majority of them were Atalanta's fans, both male and female.

King Iasus had no heir left. That was the basic gist of it. The Adventurers' Guild was well-informed of the reason: the god Pan, deity of the [Wild], had cursed him when news of Atalanta's abandonment in the forests by Iasus was discovered. Additionally, Atalanta had grown to become a favored heroine and priestess of Artemis, a major source of worship in Arcadia as well.

The combination of the two, plus other political reasons, left King Iasus with little choice but to call back his one and only child: the daughter who disappointed him simply by being born of the wrong gender.

To say Atalanta despised her own father was an understatement.

Besides, there were plenty of adventurers who came from nobility, royalty, or simply money. For various reasons, they became what they were now, and after a while, this job had become their _life_. To ask someone to give it up for one measly summon was overdoing it, especially against an A-Ranker like Atalanta.

In this status quo, the break came from an audacious gesture by the man.

He reached out to take her hand.

"You dare…!" Atalanta hissed, before kicking the table in front of her, smashing it towards the man, who landed on the other side of the room under a pile of woodwork and rubble.

Perhaps the gesture wasn't made in a rude manner, considering the desperate state of the man was in. if one could think it deeper, it's likely King Iasus tasked this man with this duty, and would punish him severely if he failed to bring Atalanta back. His movement wasn't one of a pervert or a womanizer, but a man in need of help.

Naturally, Atalanta cared very little of such things. She would still do the same even if her father was the one in front of her – if that man could be called as such. A person who never cared for her, played with her when she was little, comforted her when she was sad, protected her when she was weak…

No, maybe she'd do something even worse.

King Iasus was a stranger, simple as that. If there was an army present to drag her back, then she'd simply slaughter them all. Her bow hadn't been used much lately. She could do with some practice.

With a huff, she roughly stood up and left the place, returning back to her inn without completing her business at the Guild.

* * *

The 'Black Bull' was a hidden gem in Mycenae. As with most capital cities, prices were high and competition was fierce, thus most inns and hostels located near 'strategic places', even those of average quality, tended to be expensive. As a matter of fact, it was so much so that the majority of D-Ranked adventurers and below would choose to camp outside the city if they had any short business in the capital, instead of renting a room here.

However, the Black Bull Inn was one of the rare exceptions.

It was old, having been built at about the same time as the start of Athens's ascendancy. For generations, the owners and managers maintained a traditional value towards service: the customers' satisfaction came before money, within reason. Therefore, they chose not to participate in the ridiculous price war which inflated the living cost around the area.

Additionally, the land in which it's located was now surrounded by further developments, instead of being right at the side of a new main road. Enclosed in tiny, tidy alleys and other residents' houses, it was somewhat hidden from view, but it's rewarded with a great soothing atmosphere, perfect for those who hated the hustle and bustle of the city center.

Atalanta adored it, and therefore had been their customer since she was a C-Ranker.

Plus, this was one of the few places whose food could reach the tips of Shirō's toes, and thus a 'tick' in her book.

As was always the case, she forewent the front door, instead leaping from above and right into the balcony of her preferred room. Naturally, the inn had plenty of defenses against intruders, but she had long been entrusted to the key so she could come and go as she pleased; a result of her frequent patronage.

Indeed, apart from the forests of Arcadia and that nostalgic small, cozy hut, this could be called her second home.

Swiftly and efficiently, like a gale, she slipped off her green tunic and dress and laid there, exhausted from the day's events, on the bed. Naked.

Perhaps she let her guard down too much, as a pair of lion ears and a long, furry tail escaped the confines of her flesh, twitching and flailing this way and that, but she could care less. From hoping to meet the person she wanted to see the most, to be greeted by the person she wanted to see the least.

Today… was quite enough, thank you very much.

She muffled loudly to the mattress, screaming her frustration away.

An adventurer of Atalanta's caliber must also preserve appearances, not just being strong enough to achieve her rank. In fact, this attribute became more and more important the higher one climbed the ranks: organizational and leadership skills were more valuable when commanding a party of lower-ranked adventurers, rather than outright strength.

It's almost as stuffy as the royal parties she heard so much about, but since this job allowed her much more freedom outside of these very specific times, she gritted her teeth and endured every time.

She couldn't just behead that fool of a man, who called himself the messenger of her father's, in public. Oh, no, quite the contrary – she must deal with him in 'style', as Shirō would put it.

Life was so much simpler when all she needed to think about was what to hunt for the next meal. Or which hide she fancied for her next dress. Or which poacher needed exterminating.

'_I do not think I am suited for this city life…'_

Still, she was told she could meet her lover here if she waited long enough. Apparently, Shirō was on a sudden mission, as informed by the part-raccoon receptionist, and therefore she must extend her stay for a few more days.

'…_why must you be such a busybody, Shirō?'_ She mulled silently, somewhat feeling more refreshed than before, having let out her negative emotions. _'I miss you…'_

* * *

After Medusa woke up, she hasn't stopped crying, even after her Mystic Eyes are straining to keep up with the level of her sorrow. Well, even I understand her pain – the me who isn't born with any siblings at all – thus I simply watch her back quietly, letting her know I'm there for her all the time.

She bows repeatedly to the makeshift graves of Stheno and Euryale, her small body trembling and wrecked with violent sobs every now and then. Her voice has long cracked, leaving strange groans and moans emitted from her lips.

Additionally, she's still very young. As one grows older, they do gain some resistance towards the negative things life – or fate, a favored excuse of the Olympians – and soldier on.

When she's sleeping, Athena cleaned her up and dressed her modestly, with whatever authority she has left after her strenuous battle with the Gorgon. Now clad in slightly-oversized black robes, Medusa's long, ankle-reaching hair is now tied in one large braid, cutely adorned with black ribbons. That hard work is now cast to one side as the lustrous hair – 'snake-like', as described in her legend – is dirtied by the constant brushing with the dirt on the ground.

After a while, her voice grows weaker, and her body clearly can't hold up much longer. Therefore, I approach her gently and pat her shoulder, redirecting her attention back to me.

Rubbing said shoulder reassuringly, I say, "I apologize for the hurry-up, but the longer we stay here, the more chances we'll give to the person who did this to you, and also your sisters." Catching the dangerous glint in her rainbow-colored Mystic Eyes – activated unconsciously due to extreme distress – by the mention of Stheno and Euryale, I hurryingly add, "Let us move. Do not let their deaths be in vain, Medusa."

She weakly nods, and takes my hand with her minuscule one.

While waiting for the ship I board earlier to get half-way here, the fatigue catches up to her, as she's soundly asleep while curling in my lap. I can't resist her adorable puffing-and-huffing cheeks, as I prod them playfully while also playing with her hair, a relaxed smile forming in my face.

It's situations like this which increases my grievances for those who are considered 'authorities'. Deities are partially born from humanity's desires for a leader and protector, yet once they are given said authority over various elements, they arrogantly misused it for their own sick desires for entertainment and physical fulfillment.

Despite the current version of the Olympians being different from those I knew of – exemplified perfectly by Athena – I'll still kill those who has no desire to maintain the world, and merely want to toy with it like a cruel master will do to their slaves.

About half an hour later, I gently shake Medusa's frail shoulders. In reality, I know this is the opposite of the truth; even at this young age, she can probably capsize the ship easily with a few punches.

"M-Muu…" She groggily mumbles, rubbing her eyes. "I-I see… We're finally leaving…"

"I know it's hard to leave your birthplace," I say gently, not wanting to agitate her further, given what has transpired in her life in the past few days. "Sometimes, we have to bite the bullet and take a blind step forward, if we want to progress in life."

She looks slightly confused, which I reply with a smile. "Sorry if I'm using difficult words. But you get the gist of it, right?"

Shaking her head slowly, she clings on to me tighter. "N-No… it's fine. I know… that Sir was the one who b-brought me back f-from that… _state_, right? I shall follow you. Mother said so, too, when I was asleep."

"I see," I quietly answer, silently questioning Athena's decision to omit this particular information to me. "Ah, look. That's our ship!"

She perks up, and with shining eyes, admired the simple and robust design of the ship, cooing in amazement. I suddenly realize this is the perhaps the first time she has looked at an incoming human vessel with no negative expectations, and therefore I lift her body higher so she can get a better vantage point.

She yelps in surprise, but soon settles down and appreciates the gesture happily.

All the humans who came to this island before… Well, they're simply 'feed' for her, to be honest. They might come with bad intentions towards Stheno and Euryale, and it fell to her young, tiny shoulders to shield her much, _much_ weaker sisters from those bastards. However, with every piece of meat she consumed, having known nothing else in her life, the more her monstrous side grew, until it became unchecked.

According to circumstantial information from Athena, other deities perhaps had a hand in accelerating her downfall, which threw off both of our timings to protect her. Somehow, Perseus received the quest in time, which indicated there's more to this case than it appeared. Athena suspected Poseidon, though I'll still complement her findings with my own investigation.

However, right now, there's another matter which will take the top priority: giving Medusa the life she deserves, after being confined to this cruel fate for so long.

Her smiling face, no different from how little children her age is supposed to look like, brings warmth to my long-cold heart.

Once the ship nears dock, I detect a faint tremor from our clasped hands.

"Nervous?"

"Mn." Her hood, adjoined with her black cloak, casts a covering shadow over her eyes. "I… Are people… like the ones _before_?"

I lightly tap the back of her palm. "Those bad people will reappear, but not all of us are like that. There are good people and bad people, just like how certain deities are favored by certain culture."

My 'big words' – her words, not mine – appear to have confused her once again, so I simplify them. Patting the top of her head, I add, "Besides, _I'm_ here, right? I'll protect you, just like how you've been protecting your sisters as yourself, not as that being sleeping inside you. Understand?" Receiving a nod, I ruffle her hair through her hood, causing her to squirm. "Don't worry too much. Rely on me, just like how you rely on your mother."

"Umu!"

With that, we board the ship, where Medusa's instantly swamped by the female adventurers.

* * *

"Still studying, kiddo?"

The sudden voice startled Medea, enough so she let out an inelegant 'Eep!'.

She even managed to jump enough to toss her blanket right off to the floor, from where she's comfortably holing up on her bed. Several tomes followed suit, though they're immediately caught by a levitation Magecraft before they could damage themselves.

"A-Aunt Circe… You scared me!" She cutely pouts, puffing her cheeks and accentuating their shared sharp, pointed ears. Medea's human heritage meant hers was considerably shorter, but the familiar shape brought them together.

As a matter of fact, other than her little brother, she was closer to Circe than to her father, in a way. Having lost her mother from a young age, the mischievous and free-spirited woman gave the small Medea a variety in her gloomy life back then. Plus, the older witch often brought back plenty of snacks and memorabilia from outside, sneaking them behind her father's back, who always sifted through gifts presented to her for fear of poison and whatnot.

Circe told her it's because there's 'bad men' wanting to marry her, though Medea doubted anyone would willingly do so. After all, who'd want to romance a girl they'd never meet?

That time, when she expressed her opinion towards her aunt, she merely laughed and messed up her ocean-blue hair.

"Don't be such a scaredy-cat. Didn't you aspire to be free of this place? The outside is scary, you know?" Circe grinned mischievously. "So if you want to escape… WHOA!"

A large white staff swung above Circe's sudden crouch, which would inevitably take off her entire upper torso if it landed.

"T-TEACHER! What the hell-" Circe shouted, only to be silenced by Hecate's intimidating pressure.

Breaking her usual silent attitude, she chastised drily, "What are you trying to say to Medea? Do not rope her into your antics."

"Eh… Ehehehe… W-What are you talking about?" Circe nervously replied, cold sweat starting to form on her forehead. Despite her own strength and skill, this teacher of hers was far above Circe's and Medea's combined strength. "I-I'm not doing…"

She went silent at the sight of Hecate's narrowing eyes. The goddess's small frame, shorter than even Medea, seemed so imposing in front of the two of them, causing her youngest student to shake in fear.

"Unlike you, Medea has responsibilities to attend to," Hecate pointed out, eliciting a frenzied nod from said young girl when she turned her gaze towards Medea. "Go back home and attend to your pets… or something like that."

"Y-You're so cruel, Teacher…" Circe grumbled, before taking out her own ace-in-the-hole. "Besides, even Medea agrees with me!"

The young witch was startled when an index finger was pointed at her. Wilting under the full gaze of her esteemed teacher, the Goddess of Magic herself, she stuttered out, "U-U-Uhm… I… I-I _do_ wish to go out… j-just once in a while! Yes! Once in a while!"

The two students waited with bated breath at their teacher's silence, which usually meant bad, _bad_ things were waiting for them. Her large, white hat did a very good job in hiding her expression, though its rim was short; plus, Hecate's usual expressionless face made it more difficult to judge her mood.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, she shrugged.

"Very well. You will have a week break in a fortnight. Use it well." Hecate then sharply faced Circe, nearly causing the black pair of wings behind her to jump in fright. "And _you_. I shall expect full responsibility from you, as Medea's older apprentice. **Are. We. Clear?**"

Mirroring Medea's earlier gesture, it's now Circe's turn to nod furiously.

The goddess disappeared into motes of light, accompanied by several pure, shining white feathers.

"Geez, she's so stuffy…" Circe complained.

Medea, meanwhile, was still craning her neck this way and that, trying to get a grasp whether Hecate had truly gone away or not. "D-Don't say that… She'll come back if you do."

Circe shivered at that thought. "D-Don't jinx it!"

"Y-You did it first!" Medea complained, before saying, "Are you… serious about taking me away? I mean… have you spoken with Father yet?"

"Tsk, tsk!" Wagging her finger, Circe immediately replied, "You don't have to! You're of marriageable age! We can think and stand up for ourselves!"

"B-But…!"

"Now, aren't you the one sick of this place? You have to be brave to take the first step, you know?!" The older magus spread her arms for more theatrical effect, before bringing them together to cup Medea's supple and young cheeks. "You've grown up so much, Medea. It's time you take things in your own hands."

Medea blushed in anticipation. "So… where will you take me next fortnight?"

"A place where any aspiring traveler must visit first, of course."

Cheekily grinning, Circe continued, "The capital, Mycenae."

* * *

Athena rushed back towards Mount Olympus; to be more specific, in her quarters, she immediately drowned herself in her investigation. Suspecting a fellow deity was difficult work; not only did they had abilities which prevented scrying, no matter how powerful – barring paying a visit to the Sisters of Fate – they were sensitive to people nosing into their businesses.

There was little proof Poseidon was the one who instigated Medusa's transformation into the Gorgon. If she laid accusations carelessly, while Poseidon could do little to harm her, he could certainly harm her followers in Athens, or any other city close to the shore. It was a corrupted system which put each deity's follower hostage to each other, thus maintaining an uneasy peace between any conflicting deities.

Plus, her status as his niece made politically challenging him difficult. Her father… was still somewhat shaken from his encounter with _something_ – which he still hadn't been willing to divulge anything to her.

"_Are you sure you want me to take care of her? **Me?** A man you've just met?"_

_She smiled at the Heroic Vessel. "Yes, a man who traveled all the way here just to save this girl, and not view or slay her as a monster. I knew you followed Perseus in his quest… though I don't see him. Is he lost?"_

_The redhead looked awkward for a while, before insisting on the topic at hand. "Never mind that. I heard the Olympians were distrustful of humans, and looked down upon them. Why should I be any different?"_

"_Because you're **not human**?" Athena shot back light-heartedly. "I know one of your kind when I see one, though I've never met your patron deity. But what made you think I am such a distrusting person? This beautiful face?"_

_She even pointed at her cheeks with both index fingers to emphasize the point, which caused SHIRŌ to sweat-drop, as her face was stiff and expressionless._

"_Understood. Just… stop that," he forcibly brought her hands down, shaking his head in disbelief. "I humbly accept your 'daughter' in my care."_

"_Although that sounds like an innuendo on purpose, I shall let that slide."_

_Her eyes weren't smiling in the slightest, though. If he even allowed a single hair of Medusa's or a droplet of tear to fall, he **would** be held accountable._

The Domain of [Wisdom] was the complete opposite of Ares's, her 'beloved' brother. Neat and tidy, it was formed out of the best marble – not necessarily the white ones, as the humans preferred – into majestic, near-impossible geometrical, and strangely natural, shapes. In a word, the view was [Divine].

Each supporting pillar was constructed not only from marble, but outwardly shrouded by letters and symbols, as if the pillars themselves were open tomes and parchments. Various floating orbs shined in different colors, sometimes even fusing into rainbows, revealing the contained knowledge from departed scholars, all who became this place's caretakers in pursuit of science.

She stepped on the flying, rail-less steps, each in the form of a door connected to various temples of Athena. The writings on the pillars snaked in accordance to her movement, ready to provide any information at her back and call. Knowledge was ever-changing, ever-evolving like a living being, after all, thus one couldn't remain stagnant in order to better themselves.

That reason was why Athena was Zeus's favored child: she held the best potential to grow and improve without limit. A physical vessel was always finite; the mind was not.

There was a prophecy regarding the end of Olympus, mostly pertaining to the cycle of patricide which cursed Zeus's male lineage for eons. It was one which perturbed not just the Olympians, but also the pantheons before them: if it truly was a cycle, then how best could they break it?

It was originally a task she was entrusted to. At that time, she was young and inexperienced, yet with the highest attunement to knowledge and intellect, plus the ability to interact on it and do good – which became [Wisdom]. It was an additional attribute she accidentally gained simply by _thinking_ more than anyone else – divine or mortal. Incidentally, it also separated her [War] attribute from Ares's own: hers was of battlefield tactics and negotiations, to avoid as much bloodshed; his was the complete opposite.

However, during her initial investigation, one of the strings of the Sisters of Fate spoke to her.

"_Athena will start a new pantheon."_

It was just one sentence, with many implications.

One: she would be the one to kill her father, Zeus, and fulfilling the patricide prophecy. However, there's several weak points in this argument. Firstly, it was always the 'oldest' son who became the most powerful and took arms against his father, killing him and becoming the chief god. Thus, her gender was a mismatch. It didn't discount the possibility, though.

Secondly, she loved her father. From what she could gather, in the past, all the chief gods were utterly paranoid and power-hungry that they viewed their own descendants as threats, and schemed to get rid of them. Zeus never did that – at least outwardly – and there was very little discord between him and his descendants. Heck, even his illegitimate children never despised his entirety – merely the fact he laid with their mother without full consent.

Two: somebody else would kill her father, and the rest of the deities, leaving her _alone_ to rebuild. This was considered her most frightening nightmare, with no further explanation needed. She just couldn't imagine it. When the universe was only [Chaos], then [Order]… _how lonely was it?_

Three: the Age of Gods would naturally end, with her as the sole survivor, doomed to weaken for eons until her worshippers were no more. Perhaps they would worship another pantheon, or abandon it and worship a sole god; she had no idea. No matter how much she drained her [Wisdom] daily, she still couldn't divine the future with her calculations. The Sisters of Fate had decreed to her: fate wasn't one of cold, hard measurements, but of an eternal dance between [Chaos] and [Order].

Therefore, unpredictable.

It was a never-ending quest, really, to analyze a prophecy spanning through so many ages. The string of fate – or _curse_ – had been so tightly wound together it's near impossible to separate and interpret how every single one interacted with each other.

Or, perhaps, the fates were never meant to be understood with [Wisdom]?

There were certainly plenty of examples. In the mortal plane right now, there were equally a number of successful individuals without divine blood, and even times outperformed those who did. They were usually chosen by their respective patron deities out of chance, with little to no consideration given to it.

Naturally, she had never done this – mostly her _more stupid_ siblings did, though, merely for their own entertainment.

And this 'entertainment' was what nearly killed Medusa.

She clenched her teeth, as the databank inside her realm began to share its contents with her brain.

It was never an easy task, nor a short one. Its contents might have been infinite, but her processing power was not. To sift through all the information at hand, despite working at speed no man nor gods could match, was a slow, arduous work.

This was her style of divining one's fate: past, present, and future. The first two was automatically recorded into the flow of the World, but the latter was always the trickiest one. The 'present' was often the most useful: using it, she could fill any gaps or holes of the 'past', while also simultaneously building a picture of the 'future'.

It's such a shame no being was allowed to constantly in the Sisters of Fate's presence. If she could interview them non-stop, and they answered truthfully – always a problem with those _bitches_ – this would've been finished yesterday.

To divine Medusa's thread, and to whom it connected to.

"T-There's just too many…" she moaned.

However, for the sake of her sole remaining daughter's happiness, she would endure.

* * *

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"

The spy, clad in grey-black cloak, casually dodged the thrown alcohol cup, before resuming his respectful stance. After all, he was a mere shadow – disposable and nameless – and the other party was a king.

Well, a king of a small state, nowhere near the state of Athens, Thebes, or even the budding Sparta. The things limiting this man's expansion in his lust for power and authority was simple: it was this very attitude.

King Pelias, of Iolchos, shared none of his subordinate's calmness. He was panting lightly due to the extreme outburst of emotions. It's unlikely an illness or sourcing from an out-of-shape body; the man's quite fit for his age, bar his slightly burgeoning belly.

"My nephew… What was he up to, again?"

'_Didn't I just give him the report?'_ The spy internally rolled his eyes, though he maintained a stoic façade out of duty, if not respect.

"He hijacked a ship heading towards the Eastern Shores, across the Aegean Sea, meant for ferrying some rookie adventurers for their first rounds of quests," he patiently recited _the exact same words_ written on the parchment in front of King Pelias. "However, he departed mid-way through, and my men's attempt at gauging where he went was unsuccessful."

"I know that, you fool! I can read!" Pelias grunted, his eyes bloodshot with anger. "I don't care where he went. What I want to ask is how on earth _is he still alive?!_ Do the job I've entrusted you to!"

'_Yeah, like hell it's easy assassinating an S-Ranker,'_ the other man drily thought.

Paranoia. It was Pelias's one biggest flaw.

The nameless man actually admitted, in his mind, that Pelias was a _good_ king. He handled domestic and international affairs with aplomb, professionalism, and attention to detail, while relegating the overwhelming work to trusted, capable attendants. There was little to no corruption existing in Iolchos due to his work. Even his family wasn't arrogant and flaunted their wealth; the current royal prince, Acastus, was a popular public servant and able warrior.

From the outside, all was well.

But Pelias was always distracted by whatever his nephew was doing, perhaps out of fear Lord Jason was scheming to usurp him.

There were rumors of a prophecy where that very reality happened, spoken by the Oracle of Delphi herself. Well, it didn't explicitly mentioned Jason – or Seirios, as the young man now identified and masked himself with – but for whatever reason, Pelias identified this nephew of his as the man who'd usurp him.

He, the head of information of Iolchos, partially agreed with this self-destructive paranoia. There were traces – not enough proof, still – that the adventurer 'Seirios' was manipulating public perception to support his ascension to the throne, while at the same time discrediting the current king. For all which was said about this 'secret' identity, there was apparent coincidences which pointed out the 'leak' of his identity as Lord Jason, the 'rightful heir to the throne', was deliberately done.

It all painted a good narrative. A boy, living in simplicity, was casted out of his royal birthright by his power-hungry uncle. That was the romance which was circulating throughout Greece, and recently had become public knowledge. It wasn't 'fact'; merely a tale shouted for long and hard enough that it became reality.

Such was the finicky nature of citizen support, swayed by some clever words here and there.

He had to admit, if any of this theory – some of his men called it 'conspiracy' – was true, then Lord Jason was a formidable political opponent, indeed.

His deeds as he climbed the ranks into an S-Ranker was the stuff of legends. A 'normal, ordinary' man who managed to struggle his way to stand as Herakles's and Chiron's equal? Oh, how the public loved that story, recited time and again to both children and the elderly. People loved an underdog tale, and Seirios's actions simply exacerbated it.

No wonder Pelias was wary of him. Still, the level of paranoia, plus sudden lack of emotional control when Lord Jason was mentioned, suggested a fundamental mental issue. The nameless man had seen plenty of things, from tortured-to-insanity prisoners to out-of-their-mind scholars, and Pelias exhibited plenty of similar attitude to those crackpots.

Seirios, in his travels, publicly earned the trust and affection of various rulers, most of which conveniently surrounded Iolchos, ready to attack and invade at a moment's notice. The Amazons. The King of Arcadia – whose eldest child was rumored to be in a relationship with Lord Jason – also got closer to him, either to simply borrow his fame or due to another motive. Chiron, the Adventurers' Guild Master. Herakles.

The list of famous people and factions went on and on.

It was frighteningly possible.

'_Maybe I should cut off this moron's head and side with Lord Jason instead?' _The man mulled in his mind, as Pelias continued his rant with foam forming on the tips of his lips.

As for his task… well, it was beyond impossible.

He and his men spent the past few years monitoring the young redhead, eager to seek an opportunity to strike and finish their duty. None of them was under the illusion this was an easy task – and subsequent encounters proved it was much, _much _harder than they thought.

The threats came in simple ways, initially. Notes in their underwear. Clattered objects outside of their bathing area. Symbolic objects placed atop of their makeshift sleeping bags when they slept.

Lord Jason was able to kill them anytime, anywhere he damn well pleased.

Then, as they couldn't abandon their duty, it turned more and more severe.

The spies' families all reported – innocently and without any knowledge of their missions, of course – sightings and meetings with the public idol. Lord Jason would leave messages for them to convey to the spies – words which meant nothing to the family members, but a clear warning to the nameless men and his subordinates.

"_Cross me, and I will **end** you."_

He knew where they all lived. Who they cared about. What their weaknesses were.

There were many ways to harm an individual, both physically and emotionally.

This man… had mastered these ways farther than them.

Was he… even human anymore?

Soon, one by one, his subordinates resigned from their duties, choosing to either retire or be posted at a faraway place. He understood their reasons, and accepted them with little fuss; though it resulted in him bearing the brunt of this paranoid king's frequent outbursts.

"You have a fortnight to finish the job! If not, consider your life forfeit!" King Pelias ordered roughly. It's clear his mind wasn't in the healthiest place; he recently received news his own son – yes, his _flesh-and-blood son_ – wanted to become an adventurer and follow his cousin in his 'grand adventures'.

When Pelias found out, he nearly died from stroke.

"_Betrayal! Betrayal, I say! You… you are not my son anymore!"_

It took his wife and all the castle workers to calm him down and prevent him from impulsively disowning Acastus, such was his wariness of Jason's accomplishments and public support. If it had happened, foreign states would move without hesitation and destabilize the kingdom further, leading to certain destruction.

"Understood."

The nameless man had no choice but to answer in that manner. He had no relatives, no loved ones, and therefore the perfect candidate for this job. In fact, it was these attributes which accelerated his promotion to head of the information department, following the extremely high employee turnover rate every year.

He could only pray in his heart, to whichever deities were listening, that all would end well.

If not, well…

'_I **really** should cut off this moron's head…'_

* * *

**Glossary Update!**

* * *

**K**

**The Kingdoms of Greece  
**

**Mycenaean Greece was actually composed of alliances of various large kingdoms, spread around the Aegean Sea in Southeastern Europe. The citizens identified with each other solely from a similar culture, with a distinct lack of racial discrimination among humans. Each kingdom consisted of one or two large poleis, surrounded by smaller towns and villages.  
**

**Greece was divided roughly into four distinct areas, each with its own climate and micro-culture: Peloponnese in the south, Thessaly in the center, Central Greece in the center-east (including the various archipelagos in the Aegean Sea), and Epirus-Macedon in the north. However, the alliances between kingdoms might not defer to geographical locations, as proven with the list below:**

**· Thebes and its allied states: Delphi, Arcadia, Byzantine, Iolchos**

**· Athens and its allied states: Lemnos, Rhodes, Lesbos, Thasos, Mycenae**

**· Sparta and its allied states: ******Laconia, **Elis, Olympia**

******· ****Epirus, Macedon, Crete, Thrace, and Argos were all independent states.**


	5. Declaration

**Hey, everyone! Been quite a long time since my last update. First of, I'm glad all of you liked the previous chapter, so I'll go straight to the excuse: holidays, beta work, and IRL. There - though these three were quite enjoyable in their own ways. I also haven't advertised my most recent beta work, which is on King of Despair's profile. He's writing 2 BleachXFate crossovers, both of which I did work, and am working on. Check it out, and give me a shout out over there as well!**

**Now, about the things I will talk about this series! I'll try to push forth with more and more localized Greek terms, but I have to admit it's difficult, as I'm not a native Greek speaker. Also, I'm struggling to match my general English style with it. I won't be constantly changing terms with their specific Greek deities in swearing phrases, because it just doesn't sound authentic. Prayers, meanwhile, are different things, so I'll see what I can do there. **

**Mailbag time!  
VGBlackwing: ****Er... you do realize in the previous chapters I've set up Shirou as a replacement for Jason, right? Canon Jason won't show up at all here. I agree with your rant about Jason, though, both his version in mythological and TYPE-MOON canon.  
Fathira: An oldie is here! I have to admit, I'm not familiar with Saint Seiya even though I watched it as a kid, so I don't know what to say that...  
miguelgiuliano: ****Thank you for the suggestion! Unfortunately, I won't be going into the Trojan War in this story. Perhaps another time.  
StringOfRandomNumbers & Shurukkah: Thanks for the corrections! I'll take them on board.  
Dark Durian & Ruberforumfree: Great to see you're enjoying the chapters! As to your questions... you'll have to wait for future chapters for the answers. Sorry, can't say anything about spoilers.  
Nugget O Awesome: ****Thank you for your praise. Personally, I, too, am not too happy how HV-S01 ended up as a whole, but I was at a loss how to improve it without gutting it and starting over. This improvement is what I seek in the second installment; glad you noticed!**

**Thank you for those of you whose reviews I can't or don't answer. For instance, the various 'Guest'**

**accounts made it difficult for me to address you guys. For my old readers with their supportive comment (you know who you are), thank you again! Hopefully this chapter also meets all of your exacting standards.  
**

* * *

The ship was rowdy, almost as if nothing had changed since the past few days. The only difference was the center of attention among the rookies. Back then, with a combination of the excitement of their first missions, combined with Sir Seirios's – no, _Shirō's_ – presence, made them nearly insomniac. Such was his stature; one of only three in the world.

Now, they had a new toy to play with.

"S-S-Shiiiiirrrrrrrōōōōōōōōōō! H-Help me!" Medusa's small form was struggling futilely against the grips of various female rookies, most notably the clingy Andromeda. Having little control over her own strength, she couldn't just break free of their hold, lest she killed them all outright. "Mugyah! D-Don't touch theerrrreeeeeeee…!"

She's currently suffering the fate of becoming the girls' dress-up doll, owing to her delicate and adorable features due to her young age. Perhaps the other girls were also pent-up after the experience of their first missions, requiring an outlet such as Medusa.

But – even Shirō admitted this himself – her single large, long braid was rather cute, adorned with black ribbons. Her shabby black robe, a makeshift from Shirō, was already replaced by a better-quality one, likely from Andromeda, given she had plenty of pocket money due to her status.

The few people who didn't join in on the festivity were some of the boys… and Perseus.

He looked somber, sitting in the corner while looking on regretfully.

Earlier, it was Andromeda who had dealt the first blow.

"_You're trying to kill **her**?! This girl?! You scum!"_

Therefore, the other rookies unanimously decided to separate the two of them, having known the truth after Sir Shirō explained it to them. Now, he, a prospective hero chosen by so many deities, was now more like an outcast. He never even had the chance to use, or even _know_, what any of his weapons felt like to wield. And now… he would go back empty handed?

But what else was he going to do? Go against the S-Ranker? Yeah, that came out well last time, didn't it?

He simply was no match, even if he considered life outside of adventuring. Sir Shirō – no, Lord _Jason_ – was a prince. What was Perseus? Apart from his lineage as Zeus's son, he was the child of a relative commoner, both from his mother's and step-father's sides.

From now on, Perseus was marked. All because he failed to heed the underlying tones in a conversation with Sir Shirō. He had no excuses – the questions the older man asked were very valid, and very _humane_ to think of.

But precisely because Perseus _didn't_, he was deservedly treated like this.

A rough, large palm bopped the top of his head, revealing itself to belong to the man he was thinking of.

"Ya' here to gloat? Do you want my apology?" Perseus spat out, as rude as their first meeting. It was his last line of mental defense – beyond this, he _really_ would break down into the trash reflected in other people's eyes. "Say something!"

Sir Shirō's face was calm and unprovoked, which irked Perseus even more.

Taking a deep breath, the older man removed his hand away. "You've already done so in your heart, no?" Observing Perseus's sudden flinch, he smiled assuringly, "Then my duty is done. So long as you hold this humiliation in your heart, you'll avoid making mistakes in the future."

"Can't you just… you know, _tell me_?!" Now furious, Perseus leapt to his feet. "I would've understood! I would've reconsidered! Yet… yet you _shamed_ me like this!"

One flick from Sir Shirō's finger sent him straight back down, rubbing the tip of his nose. "It seems you still don't understand the point, do you?"

"THEN ELABORATE!"

His shout summoned Andromeda, who's stomping over his way with a stern, if not outright hateful expression. "Will you pipe it down, villain? You're scaring the little girl. Oh, I forgot; you already have once she boarded the ship, no?"

Her sarcastic tones were stopped by Sir Shirō motioning his palm, leaving her huffing back to fawning over Medusa's now-defeated form.

"That I shall." He began, "I know of you, Perseus, son of Zeus, and of your _fate_. Born out of wedlock, and as you said to me before: you came here to prevent your uncle from laying his hand over your beloved, beautiful mother. However, that's not all there is to it."

Perseus kept his mouth shut this time.

"You were fated to marry Andromeda."

This time, he couldn't keep his surprise down. "W-W-WHAAATTT?! T-That violent woman?!"

However, Sir Shirō simply ignored his outburst, and added, "However, your life will be filled with nothing but murder. Yes, _murder_ – don't look at me like that – as you wantonly and without remorse slay all those who got in your way. The smallest insult, the tiniest disturbance, and blood will fly around you. _That_ is the future of Perseus, son of Zeus. Do you wish to know more? For me to 'elaborate' further?"

"A-Ah… I d-didn't mean to…"

"_Of course you don't._ You never think of your actions and your words before you do it. It's an admirable quality in some very, very rare cases," Sir Shirō said, irritated, "as it prevents one from hesitating under life-and-death moments. Yet, for most of the time, it only makes you appear as a buffoon."

To drive his point further home, he forcefully clasped Perseus's young face in-between his palms.

"I sincerely hope you do not become your fated self. Because if not, as I have said beforehand… Do you still remember?"

Stuttering, Perseus nervously replied, "Y-You… will kill me."

"Exactly."

With a shove, he left the younger man behind to extract Medusa from the clutches of the girls.

* * *

Medusa had hoped she would never visit _this place_ every again, but it appeared, like always, fate had been unkind to her.

She was sinking back again, into the never-ending darkness, slowly losing touch with her senses.

It made the pain and despair even more apparent, as she had tasted the light before.

When would it come? Faster? Sooner? From Shirō? From her mother?

…or would it not come at all?

She wanted to scream, to struggle against her fear, but it was futile. As much as the darkness enveloped her vision, blocking her hearing, smelling, and dulling her touch, her opened mouth only allowed it to invade her being faster and faster.

As if drowning in cold, corroding mud, her own 'self' was fading away, just like that time.

'_Help! Please! Someone HELP!'_

Naturally, no one answered, and she kept on sinking into the depths.

'_No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! NOOOOOOOO!'_

Her struggle was futile.

\- Srrt.

"E-Eh?"

Suddenly, she could hear the sound of her own voice.

However, what made her happy – if only for just an instant – was the sensation of _something_ touching her shoulders. Finally, she had reached the bottom! Finally, someone's here! Finally, she could finally come ou-

"Welcome, killer."  
"Welcome, sister."

Only to come face-to-face with the people she both wanted to see the most and the least.

"S-Stheno…" she whispered weakly, part-happy, part-frightened, "E-Euryale…"

However, their faces weren't smiling. Their violet, brilliant eyes, sharing almost the same brilliance as Cybele, were dark and lifeless. No, there was one thing clearly apparent in them: _hatred_.

Their lithe arms, so weak and feeble when compared to hers back then, crept their way around her throat, and started constricting.

"A-Argh… U-Ugh…" At the sudden sensation of asphyxiation, Medusa began to instinctively twitch her legs and flail her arms, trying to shake the two of them off. "S-Sisters… P-Please… I-I'm sorry…"

"Why do you struggle? 'Tis your fault."  
"Experience our pain, you useless sister."

\- Srrt. Srrt. Srrt.

"Augh… A-Argh… G-Guh…"

Their precisely similar lips continued to whisper their poisonous words into Medusa's ears.

"You were protecting us all this time? How pitiful."  
"What a failure of a sister you are; shame on you."

\- Srrt. Srrt. CRACK.

With a loud snap, Medusa's neck finally snapped off, leaving her limp body sinking deeper down into the everlasting darkness.

* * *

The movement is so sudden, I nearly and instinctively react violently, thinking it's an enemy ambush. Come to think of it, it's even odd I haven't been able to detect this intrusion until it's so close to me; any other time, they will be torn to shreds by the Sword Burst-based barrier I erect around my body when I'm sleeping.

Maybe I'm simply tired? Well, the more likely explanation is the intruder lacks any form of killing intent, which allows them to move around undetected by most experienced warriors. It's funny; the more we train, the more we stumble over the smallest, most trivial things.

\- Tremble. Tremble. Tremble.

A small, soft bundle of warmth shoots its way inside my blanket, curling itself around my upper torso. A familiar scent of sweet, intoxicating blood overwhelms me temporarily, proof of how out-of-control over her emotions Medusa currently is.

Instead of reacting in accordance to my previous instincts, I loosen the blanket around me to cover her better, before patting her head and rubbing her back with each of my hands to calm her down.

\- Tremble. Tremble. Tremble.

It doesn't seem to work immediately, as I hear some quite impressive sobs wrecking through her body. Slowly, a noticeable damp spot is forming on my shirt.

However, this isn't a work of the moment. I've learned from my travels and adventures this takes time; especially with females, while males generally weird me out, though I'll do it if necessary.

After a while, I manage to gather the courage to inquire to whatever's troubling her.

"Bad dreams?" I ask, smiling, though I'm sure she won't be able to see my expression. "You can stay here as long as you like, okay?"

\- Nod. Nod.

She snuggles closer to the underside of my jaw, now tightening her hold to encircle her arms around my neck. Her face is still hidden from my view, but I get the sense she's calmed down somewhat, though still emotionally shaken.

The errand strands of violet hair tickle my nose, seducing me to bury my nose and take a sniff of her scalp. Of course, from a distance this close, the scent of her Magic Energy will cover anything else existing there, either it's sweat, dirt, or something else.

Yet I do so anyway, feeling it'll give her more assurance and sense of safety.

It gets worse, in a way completely able to be traced to my fault. The weight on my body, the warmth of hers, the overwhelming sickly sweet scent… The memories and lust of 'Shirō Emiya' is surfacing and manifesting in my body, no matter how inappropriate it is right now.

Yes, I am edging closer to a full-blown hard-on, with only a shred of decency and morality standing between it and an irreparable situation.

The lingering sensation of a fully-bloomed woman's body, unique to Medusa's large and sensuous breasts – and bigger than the beloved junior of 'Shirō Emiya', too. The irresistible seductive dreams and illusions, capable of fulfilling any of his most carnal desires, with Medusa changing form into any woman he wanted at the moment. The sight of Cybele, normally beautiful, deadly and petrifying, both figuratively and literally, which was trained onto his every expression, as his large girth is repeatedly milked in her mouth…

'_No. Stop.'_

Somehow, despite already having a lover in this era, I can still have inclinations to romance another female being, no matter how young they are, apparently.

As I struggle with my own conscience for a few minutes, the period where Medusa's body is slowly rocked and stroked has lulled her back to sleep. Her young body, with minimal amount of energy after her forced Gorgon transformation and subsequent battle, quickly falls into extreme exhaustion and passes out. It's not quite the same as sleeping – pardon my initial observation – as it's supposed to recover energy, not continuously leak it out.

I need to top her off, somehow or someway.

\- Fuu. Fuu. Fuu.

The sound of a child's sleeping breaths is meant to calm an adult's heart, yet her beauty is such that I, who knows her better than almost anyone in the world bar Athena, is still mesmerized by it, as I tilt her head upwards to take a closer look at her face. Her cheeks, still rosy from crying, is squishy and tender, eliciting a desire to pinch and play with them forever.

However, what draws my attention the most is her lips.

I bite the inside of my own cheek, hard enough to draw a considerable amount of blood, before using my thumb to part open her lower lip.

The hesitation is slight, but it's clearly there.

However, her body's condition takes priority over anything else. If left unchecked for longer, she may devolve into a mindless beast once again, before dying in the exertion.

Between the parted, 'ideally imagined' lips, I insert my tongue softly to pry her mouth open, and transfer my blood.

Unlike 'Shirō Emiya', a Heroic Vessel's blood is much more potent, perhaps even more than Divine Spirits such as Servants. I, and the others, are still _living_, and thus is filled with more vitality and ease of recovery.

"Mmnnhhh!"

Medusa moans loudly, almost sexy in a way, but her exhaustion is such that it prevents her from waking up. Her body jerks once, then twice, before trembling in pleasure of my rich blood. I decidedly ignore the wetness building in her crotch and seeping into my own, as I rub her nape to ease the circulation of Od in her body.

If a normal human being tries this method, there's a good possibility they'll get overwhelmed by Unlimited Blade Works and turn into a crumbling steel statue made of swords. Alaya tells me I need to control the circulation internally – i.e. through a female's womb – though I am fortunate for having no need of that technique until now. Most of my sexual activities are done in search of pleasure, under conditions where such emergencies are non-existent.

If Medusa requires it, I have to admit there's a part of me which will be happy of the required act. Denying it will weaken my soul from the act of lying to myself, though I don't have to be happy with it. Medusa is an important person to me, and a treasure entrusted by Athena. I intend to keep it that way… until she herself pursues me of her own accord. I, too, don't want to steer her in any weird directions.

Save her. Protect her. Just do my job. Don't think of anything else.

Her tongue responds to my intrusion; at first timidly, then bolder. It's tiny in comparison to mine, but her mouth and cheek lining's insides are boiling hot, greedily sucking in my blood and tongue like a drowning person with air. After a while, as I slowly retreat, it's her own which continues the pursuit, as she instinctively presses her lips deeper into mine in search of more energy.

A wet sound accompanies our duel, as I carefully manage to separate her lips with mine. The absence of warmth momentarily flutters her eyes open, staring right at me with sleepy, intoxicated Mystic Eyes, but I immediately use one of my palms to cover and shut them down, lulling her back to sleep.

Any further, and I'm afraid my conscience will not be enough to hold my urges back.

I feel strength returning to her body, even as she falls for my trick.

\- Fuu. Fuu. Fuu.

Soon after her cute, faint snores are heard, I force myself to sleep to prevent myself from doing anything untoward.

To be honest, there's a high chance she'll be receptive of even those kinds of gestures, but her young age, combined with her recent traumatic experience, makes it unfair for me to do so, even if I wish it to be true. Plus, there's a high chance Atalanta will be displeased if I do so…

She has never kicked me outside of her house, or force me to sleep in another bed like how couples do in modern times, but this outcome is in little doubt if I lay my hands inappropriately on Medusa.

The little girl purrs happily under the remaining strokes of my hand, fortunately having driven off her nightmares away.

* * *

The very next morning, I find a small trembling bundle of Medusa covered in my own blanket beside me. A touch elicits an 'Eep!' and a burning temperature in my hand, concerning me on how intense she must be blushing underneath her hiding space there.

Trying to be as calm as possible, I pat where her head should be. "It's alright. It's me, remember? You can come out now, Medusa."

"No!"

Well, that settles it.

Without using force, I flip her over to her back, revealing what my head is imagining earlier: an embarrassed, blushing face with tears welling up on the corners of her eyes. Happily, it's different from her frightened state last night, so I proceed to relieve her confused self of the blanket and pat down her messy hair.

She struggles slightly, mostly out of a desire to cover her line of sight towards me, but the redness of her entire head matches very well with her violet hair.

"Please, will you not trust me and speak your mind? There's only me here," I try again patiently to coax out some words out of her.

"A-Ah…! U-Um…" She mumbles something incoherent for a while, before commenting, "B-But… I-I s-slept with you l-last night… a-and w-we… _kiiiissseeeddd…_"

She bites her tongue on the last part, as she's stuttering so much, leading her to cover her mouth in pain.

"Let me see," I urge, taking hold of her slim wrist, only to sneak in a small peck on her lips once again, which makes her jump right off onto the floor.

"W-Wha-WhatWhatWhatWhatWhatWhat…"

"See? It's for your own energy usage; I'm not offended by it in the slightest. It's important for you not to be too reserved in asking for blood, alright, Medusa?" I help her off the floor, placing her back on the bed. "If you fall ill, then your mother and sisters will be sad, no? I'm responsible for your well-being as of now, after all."

"Ah… Y-Yes… My sisters…"

Ah. So that was the reason for her state last night.

I rub the top of her head, putting slightly more power this time to snap her out of her saddened state.

"Look at me, Medusa. No, really, _look_," I say forcefully and firmly. "Was it a bad dream containing your sisters? And did they blame you for what you did?"

Medusa's shoulders flinch as my words hit the mark, but her eyes are wide in surprise. "H-How did you know?"

I smile reassuringly. "Do you know how to save someone, Medusa? To become a hero?"

Confused after being answered by a question, she shakes her head.

"It's not just rushing in dumbly with all swords and flames, and nor simply scheming things through without taking action oneself is enough," I lecture. "To truly save a person, one needs to understand what causes the target to be in need of saving in the first place, before a hero can plan on how to go through with it."

Taking a seat beside her, I continue, "There are many methods of this 'understanding'. Some exceptional talents can read others' thoughts through exchanging mortal blows in combat; their mind clear as ice, despite their hearts burning with passion. Others can empathize with those around them by analyzing tiny gestures and clues, even without talking to them at first."

As her eyes are starting to glaze over, I finish up, "Long story short, even if we've only met for a short time, I _understand_ you, Medusa. Therefore, please don't be reserved and trust me."

I take her tiny hand in my palm, and try to put on my best facial expression.

"After all, I'm your hero, aren't I?"

* * *

Hera observed the skies around Mount Olympus, generally a good indication of Zeus's mood. Inheriting the power and authority over the skies from their grandfather, Ouranos, the King of the Gods could influence weather phenomena on a whim, sometimes inadvertently. Only a few days ago, he was shaken by _something_, conjuring dark storms and massive lightning across the skies.

He had refused to share his troubles with his wife, Hera, which meant she was worried something big was going on. Zeus hadn't made _that_ kind of face since the last Titanomakhia, when the fate of the universe was on the line.

Her heroes weren't able to provide reliable information, either. Sometimes, errant sightings or rumors could point to one end of an important thread, from which the fabric of fate was spun, but that was always Athena's forte, not hers. Even the strongest hero under her backing, Seirios, had nothing to say about this.

She did check on whatever things she could. For instance, the most dangerous object kept in Olympus was Pandora's Box, but that was secure and unopened. Neither was any divine weapons or relics stolen, judging from the reports of the guards she sent to scour the various safes across the divine realm.

Perhaps she should consult Athena after this… No, recently, she's been busy with something, and barely had any time to manage and give instructions to her various poleis, relegating more authority towards her selected priests and priestesses. It didn't seem connected to Zeus's troubles, but it wasn't an impossibility.

Did this mean Hera need to pay a visit to the Sisters of Fate? Well, even if that's the case, she's never been well-received there, as the wife of Zeus always placed little importance to their prophecies, unlike her more paranoid husband. Her approach to problems were always more instinctive rather than predictive, as there's little use to preparing for a future which was only a possibility, rather than a certainty.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she refocused on observing the matters of the world.

Since Zeus had retreated to his chambers to plot something – again – she resumed her duty as the deputy chief deity in his absence.

"Hmm… Herakles is not doing anything reckless… Orpheus is going well… Seirios is on his way back…"

This calmness was unnerving, as if a calm before the proverbial storm.

Something huge was going to happen, and arguably _was_ happening right now. As to what it was, she's not sure.

Well, she'd leave that problem to the Hera of tomorrow. For now, she must only stay vigilant. That's all.

* * *

"It's the sseeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Following what Circe taught her, Medea mustered her courage and screamed as such on top of the ship's stern's point, drawing a lot of unneeded attention to her flustered self. The older magus had said it's customary to first-time travelers to be as excited as possible, or the virgin experience itself became worthless.

Nevertheless, it was too much for the young princess, and she immediately jumped off while pulling on her hood, hiding her beet-red face.

However, she didn't think of the fact she's wearing a gorgeous, partially see-through dress, more appropriate for royal balls than traveling, meant the men's gaze were transfixed on her the whole time. Her beauty and rare, pointed ears only added to her allure, and only Circe's somewhat watchful glares prevented one of them to make a move on her.

It was quite a luxurious ship, though still belonging to a merchant. Any tourist ship would be easily caught and grounded by the King of Colchis, who would've realized Medea's escape by now, but a merchant's ship knew of naval patrols' blind spots, as they needed as many cheats as they could have to drive down their expenses. Plus, such a ship was more likely to bow from a bribe, especially one from two beautiful royal women like them.

Well, even if that failed, their skills in Magecraft would've been enough to escape any pursuit. Hopefully, their teacher, Hecate, could calm the king down after a few days. Besides, it's only for a few days.

A short vacation wouldn't hurt anybody, right?

Back down in the most luxurious guest room, Medea was burying her face into the surprisingly well-made pillow, legs squirming in embarrassment. Her personal staff was leaning on one of the walls, along with a table full of her personal novels and diary.

"There, there." Smiling gently, Circe rubbed Medea's steaming head. "That was magnificent. Just think of the things we'll do on this trip! Forget already about what you did!"

The younger girl's squirming did stop, though she still didn't want to look at her mischievous older apprentice's face. This was the first betrayal she's ever faced! How could she let that go?!

Worried of Medea's silence, Circe stumbled with her words. "E-Er… I-I'll treat you to de-delicious sweets at our next stop! Y-You haven't had _gastrin_, right?"

"I have."

"W-What about honeyed orange candies? They're popular!"

"I have."

"R-Roasted apple sticks? Pretty please?"

"Get out."

"G-Guh… A princess's diet sure is wholesome!" Circe groaned, slumping on the side of the bed. "Look… sorry for doing that to you, alright? It's a prank! A prank! Besides, the men adored your performance earlier!"

A hand swiftly reached out and pinched Circe's long ears, hard.

"Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Geez, you're so vengeful!"

Medea finally revealed her face after a while, as the red traces were gone. Instead, she was looking coldly at her senior apprentice, before huffing and reaching for one of her tomes, with it dutifully floating into her open hand. Rearranging the bed to read more comfortably, she then proceeded to ignore Circe's nagging until the latter left.

She turned the pages onto some reports of up-and-coming heroes, which naturally were written in more flowery language to try and market them to the wider public. While enjoyable to read as a pastime, Medea was knowledgeable enough to analyze between the lines to decipher some of its true meaning. More in-depth study required more experience of the outside world, she surmised in the past, therefore partly fueling her desire to travel.

It's quite well-worn, despite her only recently acquiring this volume from the royal library. It seemed to be quite popular among nobles who're endlessly cooped up in their work and social life; perfect for her old self, but unsatisfactory for her current thirst.

With one wave of her arm, the silken white-purple gown dissolved into thin air, replaced by a more conservative and common clothing. It's an oversized dark violet robe, far larger than her lithe build, with some golden abstract lettering engraved into the middle hems, enough for her to roll into some sort of large cotton ball if she wished. Despite being 'unfashionable', as Circe described it, it's one of her most comfortable outfits.

Castor and Pollux, the Dioscuri twins. Meleager. Orpheus, son of Calliope. Theseus.

Most of them were barely B-ranked at this time, but most experts predicted they'd soon shed this and ascend. Perhaps only one large quest stood between them and that promotion.

Hopefully, she could still get their autographs while their still in B-Rank, then sell it better after they ascend! She could make decent pocket money with that!

Smiling at her sudden burst of inspiration, Medea reached out for another volume, this time simply planning on brushing up her Magecraft foundation.

* * *

Chiron rubbed his temples on the side of his head, as problems kept coming at him, one after the other.

Oh, why couldn't he return to being a teacher of the masses, like back in the good ol' days? Back when everything's so simple: nobles, royals, and deities alike lined up in front of his residence, deep in the peaceful forests of Thessaly. He only needed to care for the young children's best interests, unlike today, where brash, uncultured people sapped his attention instead.

Really, what kind of childhood most of his adventurers experience to turn them into such… such _assholes_? Must they be so rowdy, impatient, caustic, and selfish all the time? Yes, he realized beggars couldn't be choosers, and adventuring, as a job, was initially created for the social outcasts and those who had no other way out.

In short, it was a perfect place to throw away the trash of society, unable to be accepted anywhere else.

Of course, things had improved tremendously over the past few decades, especially after he galvanized and centralized them in a guild. This achievement, rather than his combat prowess, was what earned him of his current rank, though naturally he was no pushover in battle. He _had_ taught many warriors, after all, not just scholars or healers.

This progress precisely showcased what was wrong with these people, though. Among the exceptional ones, their bright lights would always cast a long shadow. The better things got, the starker the darkness it would create. Therefore, the lower-ranked adventurers became more and more desperate in comparing themselves to those above them, raging to race there in the fastest time possible.

Which also meant they had little time for pleasantries or politeness. And since they're used to behaving this way since the lower ranks, their attitude barely changed for the better after they did ascend. Most of the time, they even got worse. Chiron had to enforce a strict penalty against higher-ranked adventurers for this, as they were the most difficult to control and stop.

Of course, right when he's being stressed about this thing, a rude person would show up and act like they owned the place, his rank be damned.

Atalanta was currently happily sipping on expensive wine she helped herself to from his stash, while crossing her legs on top of an ornately-crafted table, which was incidentally the most expensive thing in the room bar the jewelry. She didn't even bother to hide her beastial ears and tail, showcasing her level of comfort around him.

No, the last sentence shouldn't be a knock to either of them. Indeed, after her terrible past experience with centaurs, it's a miracle she could be in his presence without trying to rip his throat out from sheer instinct.

That's her: Atalanta Arcadia-Artemisia, the Fleet-foot Huntress. Though coming from royal blood, she always acted very true to her own desires. If she wanted to eat, then she'd eat. If she wanted to sleep, then she'd sleep. No matter who's around her, or who's facing her, she's the type of person who could be said to be _too_ pure, and one who knew of little else.

She's gotten much better over the years, mostly as she began to interact with actual other people, instead of holing up constantly in her small hut in the Arcadian forests. He contributed most of her development to his best student, the Heroic Vessel SHIRŌ, who struck and plucked just the right strings in her heart to make her somewhat obedient to him.

However, all of the above didn't mean Chiron and Atalanta got along well. In fact, as he had thought of earlier, their personalities were almost exact opposites. No, it would be more correct to say their 'common sense' was the main differing attribute between them. One was a scholar's point of view, the other a wild, starving beast in human form.

It's perhaps ironic he had the better control over their bestial transformations, as she could still be agitated into showcasing her lion-like ears and tail, despite her hatred against most centaurs.

After a while, even a man of his caliber and patience couldn't take the silence anymore and asked, "What other things I may help you with, Atalanta? Besides another serving of consumables, obviously."

"I am hiding," she nonchalantly replied, closing her eyes as she savored the taste of the precious wine.

'_Hmph, as if you're able to truly appreciate that drink!' _Chiron thought in irritation. Of course, he had the authority to prevent her from ever stepping into this room, but she's not the type to care of 'human rules', as she put it. She'd get whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, no matter the consequences. It's a trait still apparent in her casual attitude, and annoyed him even further.

"From what? That messenger from your father?" The centaur returned the answer, trying his hardest to remain civil.

"Precisely," she curtly nodded. "it would do well if that filth did not have the balls to barge into this place; therefore, here I am."

Shaking his head, Chiron tried to give an advice. "You know…Your father's quite the persistent person. All rulers are, to be frank; so… perhaps it'll be best if you give him some face and respond, at the very least."

\- Crack.

The precious blown glass cup she used chipped at one end, as Atalanta gripped one end too tightly. Chiron, being the experienced man he was, immediately detected the overwhelming killing intent from the female archer, while silently thinking on what words he said wrong earlier.

She wouldn't attack him right now, obviously, though that was more out of respect to SHIRŌ and the subsequent troubles it could bring him rather than to Chiron himself. However, there's no telling what she's going to do, as she always did things her own way.

"So you are no different than those people, Guild Master."

"I am touched you have thought of me differently in the past."

She narrowed her eyes. "Do not attempt to divert my words. To be honest, I have not thought you are much more than the baseless humanoids who pester me every day; yet, you have proven yourself to be exactly the same."

"Whoa, whoa, there. Which part of my words indicated that thought? I'm just giving you an advice…"

"And one which should be a support of my decision, instead of backing my father. No, that _person_ is not my father, so we shall not speak of him as such. That _pig_, who now only thinks of me as a pretty flower he can place and give to whomever he pleases, _is no king_." She spitefully spoke, slamming the glass cup to the table. Thankfully, it didn't break further.

However, her voice had gotten softer.

"Do you look down on me, too, Guild Master? Because I am a woman?"

"That's nonsense."

His tone came out harder than he would've liked, but it drove the point home just the same.

"You know me well. When have I said, done, or acted like that? Not only yourself; we have plenty of female adventurers and high-ranking officials here, most of whom I personally recruited," he continued. "Although I appreciate you sharing your offers, I do not care much for accusations. Pay heed to that, Atalanta."

"Understood."

And just like that, the pressure lifted, and it was back to normal.

The contrast between the two nearly made Chiron smack his face in frustration. He's been on the receiving end of countless killing intents, from mortals or otherwise, thus her own wasn't really anything special. Impressively thick and strong, sure, but nothing he had never encountered before.

However, the speed in which she switched between getting insulted and calming down wasn't normal. Was it due to the influence of her beastly parts, since she was born human? Or the blessings of her patron deities going awry.

"Oh, by the way, I am getting married."

"PFFTTT!"

Right then and there, the Guild Master could no longer hold the tension within him.

"WHAT?!" He even slammed his palms onto the table, asking, "A-Aren't you under divine oath?! How's that… no, never mind. I don't care about your personal matters. Allow me to present you my congratulations." He slumped back into his seat. "Who's the groom?"

"Shirō, of course." She resumed her wine tasting, stating the words out as if it's an obvious fact. "Lady Artemis and Lord Apollo have decided to grant me a joyous compensation for my merits."

"Ah… So, it's just that." Chiron wiped a surprisingly large amount of sweat from his forehead, now relaxed. "You should've just sent a letter to your father or something. We could have avoided all this mess in the first place."

\- Crack.

"So… you are dismissing the weight and prestige of my marriage, Guild Master?"

Chiron had to close his eyes and pinch his nose's bridge, as he screamed in his head. _'Oh, not again!'_

For the umpteenth time that day, he had to endure a tiring cycle of solemn quietness and suffocating murderous intent, all for the sake of accompanying a moody young lady.

Being a Guild Master sure was hard.


	6. Responses and Results

**Hey, everyone! Thanks for reading and responding to the last chapter. Believe me, I don't mind the things you guys said, because at the very least, they represented your firm views and rationale, which were totally understandable. However, what I found amusing was most of these comments came from anonymous 'Guests', who decided not to use/make their account so I can't discuss things with them. While I appreciate you nameless commenters of taking your time and letting me know your opinion - which I also respect - I can only hope you stick around for longer, at least through the next few chapters, so you can see my own reasoning for the previous chapter and hopefully end up respecting my PoV too.**

**Now, the official reason of the scene with Medusa was my attempt to incorporate how jarring Ancient Greece's culture, regarding what's acceptable or not, compared to recent times. It's _meant_ to elicit negative response from readers, making you feel uncomfortable - which some of you picked up upon, and most of you seemed to just blow through it without much deeper thoughts. It's also my regret that I didn't warn you all about said scene beforehand, but I hope you guys who decided to abandon this story after reading the previous chapter can read this. I certainly don't want to force you guys back - that's your own choice - but at least you can read this before reading other stories which suit your palate more.**

**One more confirmation: Medusa's mental and actual physical age differs _a lot_.**

**Mailbag time!  
Lost Stardust1: ****Thank you for the review. I'm not sure I can include Hestia, since I have very little clue on how to characterize her properly, despite a variety of fandoms out there who have Hestia as a character by herself. Besides, I think I'm dealing with quite a lot of characters already, and although not as many of them are OCs or inserts like in HV-S01, I don't feel I can cope with another character. Artemis will be in the story, though, since TYPE-MOON have spent the effort to characterize her already.  
Psylent Fox & Hero of Justice Roxas: ****Your predictive powers are incredible...  
miguelgiuliano: ****Well, not sure what to say to that. Personally, I've never delved far into either characters, so you should research with caution before using them. For FGO... I rarely play it, only enjoying the anime and manga, so I can't relate to your enthusiasm this time. Sorry.  
**

**Also, I updated the previous chapters with the Greek expressions I said I researched. Not much, but I do think they're making a difference. Check them out! There's some in this chapter as well. ******Enjoy! Warn me for any other 'uncomfortable' scenes as well, just like this time. Discuss!****

* * *

Compared to the lithe, slim Athena, everything about Artemis was more… say, _glamorous_. Her breasts. Her rounded face. Her wavy hair. Her child-bearing hips. Her easy smile. They all jiggled wherever she walked, unintentionally drawing attention from men and women alike, though not to the crazy extent of Aphrodite's natural charm.

It was still more than enough to irritate Athena whenever they met, though.

Especially as she continued to bring Orion, now in his animal form, around Athena's pristine, orderly, and most importantly, _quiet_ personal library.

One, she needed some space to rearrange her thoughts regarding Medusa's case. Having another pair of eyes, or perhaps two, might be a better proposition, but that's only true if the other parties were intelligent, helpful, and _not noisy at all_.

Two, she generally didn't get along well with either Artemis or Apollo. To be frank, Athena didn't really get along with anyone from her generation, as their more specialized talents were… say, not her equal in most things. As proof, her main polis, Athens, was the most dominant military and cultural force among all city-states, which must mean she's doing a better job than everybody else.

And no, she's not bragging.

…maybe just a little.

To explain further, both Artemis and Apollo were great martial artists, yes. However, the keyword laid precisely in that phrase: that of 'art'. Athena was the Goddess of [War], and while there were individuals who found the beauty and romance in it – particularly her dear brother – she did not.

She was a warrior, first and foremost. 'Art' was only useful to enchant or trick the enemy as she slit their throats open.

The hunter siblings, while being pinnacle archers, took the form of archery to another pinnacle, one so otherworldly and mysterious it could be categorized as 'art'. Not something which flung a heavy, pointy object fast and over large distances to kill something, as how Athena practiced it. Arrows which could fly absurd trajectories and unleash colorful magic signatures. Arrows which could traverse the ground, the water, and the sky in one fell swoop. And many other impractical effects which Athena didn't even bother to consider analyzing, simply because they're too ridiculous.

And one of the chief representatives of those very same ridiculous things now stood behind her, poring over her research data through her shoulder, and pressing those damned _large objects_ into the back of her head. _'For goodness's sake, it's too warm in here! My hair is steaming!'_

"What are you looking at? Hmm… looks like you're looking into one of the Olympians?" Artemis cheerfully asked, her lover Orion perched in his animal form on her head.

Fortunately, for Athena's sanity's sake, the perverted man decided not to comment on anything, as he usually did. He proclaimed loudly once Athena's slimmer build wasn't 'his taste', words which earned him a straight shot of steel spear to the face. It's her only regret his current form, already a partial deity as a constellation in the sky, prevented her from ending his life right then and there.

Yes, two of the most annoying people Athena knew was right here, beside her, just when she needed to concentrate the most.

"'Tis not your businesses, Artemis, Orion," Athena stiffly rebuffed, before rearranging her documents and information in resignation. Despite her answer, she knew full well Artemis wasn't the kind of person who'd let her off with only just this, and thus Athena wouldn't be able to do any further work. "Leave me be. This is important."

"Fufufu… Is it about your _kóri_'s condition?"

\- Static.

Instantly, the divine library was flooded with Athena's Divine Essence, activating every single offensive and defensive ability it had.

It would've been enough to obliterate any weaker beings in an instant, and even stronger demigods would've been suppressed so much they wouldn't be able to take one step forwards. Of course, Artemis was neither of those, and her Divine Essence were enough to prevent Athena's from affecting her. Any direct attacks would've needed to be dealt with personally, though, as their ranks were somewhat equal.

"Maa~ Maa~ Don't be too uptight, Athena~" Artemis poked Athena's cheek, trying to loosen the dangerous glare she's shooting out of her eyes. "It's no shame for displaying your affection to your kin – after all, I'm here to spread the news about mine, too! Jeez, you're just too cute, so I can't help but tease you…"

Now, Orion also couldn't contain his laughter, and he patted Artemis's head multiple times trying to hold on from his shaking fits.

"Buha… BWAHAHAHA! She's got you good! Oh, you should've seen the face you're making, dear Athena! HAHAHA!"

\- Squish.

"OW-OW-OW-OW! I-I'm tearing! Ahh…! A-Artemis, h-help…!" Orion screamed as Athena, with hands faster than the eyes could see, snatched him from his lover's head and started _twisting_ and _squeezing_.

The Goddess of the Moon merely sighed, remarking, "Well, it can be said it's your own fault. But don't be too harsh on him, Athena. I'd like you to return him all laundry-ed, alright?"

"Agreed."

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" Orion's screams faded as Athena tossed him inside a separate spatial dimension for further 'punishments'.

Artemis merely giggled at the scene, before putting a more serious face. "Was it another one of our brethren's doing? I know they often looked down on children not their own… So who did it?"

The Goddess of [War] shook her head. "I am still researching. I do not wish to point fingers just yet."

"Hmm… I see, I see. A typical answer from you, I guess," Artemis shrugged. "I saw Medusa pass near my territory, as my soon-to-be son-in-law was escorting her. She looked good!"

"Thank you for the news," Athena said, before taking a virtual step-back in shock. "Σείριος… is going to marry one of your daughters? I thought they all took a vow of chastity?"

"Aw, don't be such a spoilsport! Marriage is happiness! Purity!" The well-endowed woman waved exaggerratingly, causing those _large things_ to bounce around irritatingly. "A chastity vow is to protect them from bad people! Ooh~ I'm looking forward to Atalanta's wedding dress! Kya~!"

Her words were all over the place, causing Athena to rub the bridge of her nose with a headache.

"So… the vow was solely to safeguard them? The most important thing… was their hearts' purity?"

"Bingo! I knew you're smart, Athena!" Artemis happily agreed, clapping her hands together. "Will you let Medusa marry him too? He looks like a good person!"

"Er… is polygamy not in offense of your concept of 'purity'? If it's him, perhaps he had the capacity to take care of more than one woman, but still…"

However, contrary to her expectation, Artemis vigorously shook her head. "No, no! it's the 'feeling' which is most important! Love! _Pure love!_ If it's more than one couple, then it's even more beautiful~!"

Artemis's eyes were sparkling brighter than Orion's physical manifestation in the night sky, overwhelming the already-tired Athena's constitution.

Shaking her head to clear the blinding mist of confusion, she asked, "And is Apollo agreeable with this suggestion? He, too, patronizes Atalanta, no? Almost to the point of familial affection, if I recall correctly."

"Yup! Well, not _completely_, no; he threw up a fuss when he found out, almost like an overprotective father. I'd call it 'cute', if not for the fact he had nothing to do with her childhood period! That busybody!" Artemis complained, reminiscing of the recent past when her brother caused a fit when Atalanta requested his blessings for her marriage.

Of course, none of the deities knew of the alternate reality where the huntress was toyed around with her shackling vow, ending in an unhappy marriage and unwelcome curse. Instead, SHIRŌ's intervention changed everything to a point where even the Sisters of Fate were having difficulty in calculating the precise shift in reality. Of course, this was Alaya's intention all along with a Heroic Vessel's deployment: to insert [Chaos] into what's considered a locked-in fate – a terrible one, at that – to have a chance to revert the 'bad ending' into a 'good ending'.

Again, it was ironic it was using constructs of [Order] – the Heroic Vessels – to do precisely this job.

There's no way of knowing what would happen if the knowledge inside of SHIRŌ was published among the Olympians. Zeus could do literally _anything_ in his paranoia, or perhaps some would leak to the sealed Titans and sleeping Protogenoi and cause havoc. That was why not even Athena was privy to them, only the fact Σείριος was SHIRŌ in the first place. That knowledge was enough to assume this world had already changed irreversibly through his deeds.

If she wanted to, Athena could certainly divine said changes, as Hera had closely monitored his physical vessel's growth since birth – by the name of 'Jason' from Iolchos. It's obviously going to be difficult and time-consuming, hence she decided to focus on Medusa's case first. Also, as she's still unfamiliar with the concept of Jason's true nature, she didn't dare make any rash moves. _Yet._

"If that is the case, then I offer you my sincerest congratulations, sister," Athena declared, before pushing the larger woman away from her current station. "Now, if you will be so kind… I have other things to worry about."

"Ah, what about the wedding gif-"

Before Artemis could finish her sentence, she was unceremoniously booted out of Athena's domain with one wave of the latter's hand.

* * *

Lighting a fire on top of a wooden ship could be dangerous, even with the proper precedent. There was always a tiny amount of risk, but the outdoors always had its way of maximizing the potential disaster it could bring. There was a reason why Prometheus's betrayal was considered such a big case, from both the deities' and humans' side. It simply had that much potential – either to coddle or destroy.

Fortunately, the presence of qualified professionals and proper tools tend to reduce those risks to near zero, or perhaps into impossibility. One such example is when the ship captain is well-prepared with a well-made hearth, tending it carefully, with me nearby to curtail any disaster.

Unlimited Blade Works may be an overkill to smother a fire, but one cannot be too prepared.

Slowly, I rub Medusa's slumping shoulders, squeezing them gently to reassure her of my presence. Her nightmares have struck again, and with me not in my bedroom, she ran around earlier in panic to find me, before diving into my lap, trembling, as I and the other adventurers were gathered round the fire to speak of general things.

Her arrival cut our conversation short, as I had to invest a good few minutes calming her down, either to whisper carefully in her ears or rocking her gentle body to fall into its own exhaustion. There's little chance of me doing a blood transfusion right here and now, in front of the others' gazes, for various reasons. Molesting a girl Medusa's age in front of Andromeda is definitely not a good idea, even if Medusa is receptive of it.

"Medusa, did you have a nightmare? Was it scary? Y-You can use my lap, you know…" Andromeda weakly tries to coax the young girl from my embrace, yet Medusa roughly swats the hand away with the tips of her hair – now bundled quite thickly with the large braid the female adventurers did – and hid further behind my back, glaring at all of them.

The princess makes a face akin to a person who has their heart stabbed straight through, before wailing some sort of protest towards me.

However, what catches my attention the most is Perseus's demeanor, who's sneakily watching on from a higher platform away in one corner. Sympathy and kindness enters his eyes, though Medusa can't perceive it, but I consider it a good change happening inside the boy. Yes, the methods to get him there borders on unnecessary roughness from me, but as long as it works, then I won't hear any complaints.

This was what 'Shirō Emiya' needed to do against Shinji Matō in the future to save his beloved junior. If he cared for her that much, and _loved_ her, even, in other timelines, then he should've hardened his resolve and do the then-unthinkable: berate the older Matō and forcefully protect Sakura, going against the normal Japanese morals and cultural barriers.

After all, when he did so, it was all too late, and everyone around him was hurt as a result – including the girl clinging onto my body right now.

No more.

I hug Medusa with one arm and lift her to my front, showcasing her in front of everyone once again. Her body is light, enabling me to do so easily, but her tremors are getting worse. The mental anguish she felt, plus the guilt, must be tormenting her tremendously, and now I'm going to do something to make it better – even if it looks reckless at first.

"Look there, Medusa, at that man peeking in on us," I say, pointing my finger at Perseus, who stiffens up under my and the other adventurers' combined glare. "He was the one fated to avenge your sisters and kill you, back when you're stuck in _that form_."

She nods, though she still won't look to where I'm pointing. No matter – I'll just keep speaking.

"His existence here, together with me and you, proves that fate can be changed. I won't say the images you viewed in your sleep are false or simple dreams. However," I emphasize, tilting her face upwards with one chin under her jaw, "it doesn't mean you are what you saw, either. You, Medusa, is _here_, with us, and not Gorgon. Do you understand my words?"

"S-Sir Shirō, I think it's too soon to-" Andromeda tries to interject, but I motion her to keep quiet.

"You and the Gorgon are one and the same. Do not reject it and blame yourself, putting yourself to a separate plane to distance from your sins – that is foolishness and cowardly. _Face it_, Medusa, and live on for your sisters' sake." I smile at her, trying to put my meaning through. "Because I know they loved you, and they would've wanted you to do so: be happy."

I wave my arms, pulling the Noble Phantasms from Perseus's surprised side.

"Do you see these weapons, fated to draw your blood and sever your head? I will now hand them to you – _because you are in control_, Medusa. Both of your own destiny, and of Gorgon itself. Do not mistake the two with each other."

"N-No! I… T-This…" Medusa shivers away in fear of the weapons slightly, though her eyes are now transfixed on them. "I cannot accept these…"

"Why not? It's not like the previous owner will object to it, right?"

Perseus can only nervously nod under my stare, before giving his verbal agreement to Medusa softly.

"Y-Yeah, g-go ahead…"

"You are a good girl, and a good _person_, Medusa. I'm sure everyone here will attest to that. Therefore, don't burden yourself with these useless thoughts – face them, and _vanquish_ them yourself. I will not say you are innocent and dismiss your worries – far from it – but what comes next depends solely on your decisions and actions. I am not here to free you from your shackles, but only to guide you to the ways you can achieve that."

Visibly, Medusa calms down, before tentatively reaches out to grip Harpe with her tiny hands.

"I… can do that?"

I nod firmly. "Yes. Everyone can; they only need to find it within themselves the will to do so. And _you_," I point at the middle of her chest, "have it. Take them, and become the woman your sisters and mother want you to be – you owe it to them, and to yourself."

The adventurers, silent this entire time, begin to break out in nods and agreeing hums.

I push her back to the direction of her temporary room – shared with mine – and say, "Now go. And may you find your salvation."

"U-Umu!"

Her happy face still looks weak, though there's a new sense of resolution behind it. She hugs all five Noble Phantasms to her chest – their weight obviously not hindering her in the slightest – and retreats to the bedroom.

Hopefully, the rest of the night will be of good dreams for her.

After she's gone, I beckon Perseus to come over. He seems to have accepted the… well, practically robbery of his tools by me, but his conscience looks clear.

I Trace several weapons: a longsword, a short sword sidearm, shield, and their tiny accompaniments, and toss them towards him.

"I won't apologize for taking your weapons."

"Yeah, I'm not looking for one, either," Perseus firmly replies, with a light voice. "They're better in her hands, anyway. I can't use them."

"Take these instead. They should serve you better."

Under the envious gaze of his peers, Perseus lightly bows and receives the floating weapons. "Thank you for your guidance, Sir Shirō."

I grin. "You finally call me that, huh?"

"I thought a fight should bring two men closer together? Please allow me to address you with your nickname, if a permission is what you need," Perseus curtly answers, cheeky as always. The tension between us is gone, replaced by a good deal of respect. From his side, of my forceful teaching of his wrong ways, and from my side, of his willingness to change his ways after being proven false. "Though it could be barely called a 'fight'…"

Andromeda guffaws, holding her stomach in giggles, "You got that right!"

The rest of the rookies join in on the laughter, and even Perseus is able to mockingly chuckle at himself.

I stretch back, sensing the satisfaction of a job well done.

* * *

For all the presence of Mount Olympus as the seats of the gods, its security was rather lacking.

To be frank, perhaps the Olympians were arrogant in designing its first iteration, leading to various holes to be exploited by anyone who's either clever or determined enough. For instance, guard stations were placed too far apart, without the possibility of visual confirmation with each other. Naturally, this problem was solved by way of magical communication, but it didn't eliminate the inherent structural flaws in the area.

Namely, it was a _mountain_. Unlike a human's creation, the deities tended to craft things in accordance to nature's law. In this case, it was the Divine Essence of Gaia flowing within all of them, as their grandmother, giving them this instinct. Not even Athena, the goddess who relied on efficiency and pragmatism the most, was exempt from this trait.

As such, Mount Olympus was created just like a natural mountain, with the lack of straight lines and plenty of blind spots, courtesy of vegetation, outcroppings, and natural phenomena.

The Olympians, realizing this, tried hard to rectify it by bringing in demigod architects, who used their human heritage to resist Gaia's callings and constructed grand, elaborate viewing platforms, patrol stations, bridges, and several magic circles for transportation means. Some landing areas were built later, catering for those with the ability to fly.

More and more, movement in Mount Olympus grew regulated and strict. Over the years, more fully human constructors were summoned to 'beautify' and 'improve' upon the 'glory' of Mount Olympus. They carved beautiful symbols and words of praise for the gods they worshiped, as well as constructing elaborate offensive and defensive mechanisms to slow down any invaders. It looked overkill – who could contend with the powers of the gods, anyway? Any invaders would be stupid to try.

Or, at least, that was the general thoughts among the humans. They did not, however, possess near-constant access to the words of the Sisters of Fate, who prophesized plenty of calamity to befall Olympus because of the scale of their sins and mistakes.

Even with all of the renovations, the Olympians still sought to fortify themselves against future attacks. It was one of the prevailing reasons why they nurtured and guided many heroes – so their spirits, released after death, would serve them willingly in Mount Olympus, after going through either the trials of Tartaros or the rewards of Elysium.

Orion. The Fourteen Zodiacs. Aeolus, the immortal King of Winds. The Sacred Couple, Cupid and Psyche. Arachne, the divine spider spinster. A myriad of newly deified mortals refreshed their line-up every other generation, granting Olympus the greatest standing army in the world. Every single one of them qualified as a Heroic Spirit from the Throne of Heroes, and was now sworn to protect the dwelling of the deities who elevated them to this height.

Their contraptions were, for a lack of a better word, masterpieces, enough to qualify as Noble Phantasms through the sheer Conceptual Weight of their legend. if they had a project completed of similar scale when they're alive, chances were there's an upgraded, much more lethal iteration waiting for any intruders in Mount Olympus. Their corpses littered the ground, ending up as nutrients or resurrected by the quirks of the enchanted land.

Perhaps, seeing from the outside, it looked like an impregnable fortress, especially in these last few decades. Those who thought simply of the natural, imperfect original layout would pay dearly.

However, what if the threat wasn't from the outside – but _inside_?

It's one blind spot, strangely, the generally insecure Olympians always fell to. It was even stranger Zeus didn't outwardly made moves to ensure complete internal harmony and safety among them, to prolong the rule of Olympus. Instead, his brethren and children all live guarded and cautious of each other, even between married and sworn couples.

It's an environment which betrayals and lies fester. Perhaps it's indeed a divine miracle as they hadn't instigated a civil war yet, much like how the cursed cycle dictated.

Zeus's throne, along with Hera's and a temporary, hidden one for special guests, were all located near the top of the mountain. It's for a typical reason: vantage point, the ability to literally look down on people in arrogance – the lot. There wasn't any apparent exit towards another area from here, as it was more akin to an upside-down amphitheater than a throne hall, with plenty of semi-outdoor area where divine lightning and rainstorms constantly howl and wail.

Beneath their feet were dimensionally-interconnected chambers instead, which any party concerned could access with the appropriate permissions and Divine Essences. They were of differing shapes and sizes, some logical and rational, some illogical and alien.

But only one was unique.

It was a sealed-off area, guarded so tight even its designer was unable to enter it freely. In reality, it was created by combining the brightest and most cunning minds in Mycenaean Greece, both divine and mortal, simply because of the threat it represented not only to Olympus, but to the entire reality itself.

Therein lied Pandora, All the World's Evil.

A young girl, not even reaching puberty, was chained throughout her body, excessively coiling from all her limbs and her neck into and around her thorax and stomach, almost covering her in divine seals entirely. Their hold on her was of such strength, red liquid flowed from, to, and in-between the links, moving freely without regard to rational physics or logic.

It's not blood, neither hers nor others. It was the sins from the original creation, contained specifically inside this room, and inside her, to prevent it from spilling over outside and affecting everything they touched.

They were potent enough that Pandora herself lacked the ability to fully contain it, leaving it leaking from the nine main holes and every pore uncontrollably. This very room was constructed to prevent further leakages, but it forced Pandora into an eternity of slumber, as her inactivity prevented the sins themselves to gather more and more strength, until their own vessel broke apart in vain.

Such was the fate and eternal curse of Pandora, daughter of Hephaestus.

The Original Sin, and the container of All the World's Evil.

Yet, even all of these countermeasures were failing, as attested to by the five floating tomes around the immobilized girl.

Menacing in nature, any mortal or deity facing them would feel a sense of corruption, with the speed they fell into it only a matter of their endurance, and not down to chance. Able to corrupt any sentient being, no matter the alignment, these five were the excretions of Pandora, after being held here for so long.

She, the first woman, was christened as the 'all-giving' by her father and the leader of the Greek pantheon, Zeus. Created to contain the extreme [Evil] energy propagating unabashed throughout the lands after the Titanomakhia, she was the first example of a successful homunculus, or a fake human, in this reality. Records of ancient experiments, sourced from times before the Titans were born, were gathered and used to create her, so she might be their salvation.

After she grew to a sufficient age, she was held captive without truly knowing why. At that time, she thought, _'This is the will of my father,'_ and complied without hesitation.

Then the torture came.

It was without warning. The pain – if it could truly be called so, because the intensity of it overwhelmed the word container 'pain' – drove her insane after just one night. One week later, and she broke, both soul and body, leaving her as a living husk for the rampaging sins, controlled not by the will of herself or her parents, but of [Evil] itself.

After that moment, she had never spoken another coherent word, nor formed a clear thought. She was dominated in every aspect of 'living' and 'dying' by the things she held inside.

Then, as time passed, even the contingencies Hephaestus built into her started to fail.

It wasn't due to a lapse in concentration in the period of her birth, nor a mistake from the Blacksmith God.

It was because humans existed, and gods existed.

The [Evil] constrained inside Pandora, though extensive in variety, weren't complete. Residues remained on earth after the great battle between the Olympians and the Titans, infesting those who lived at that time, and their children, and their children after that.

Both gods and humans were affected equally, some only bearing the result after a long period of time.

Thought there were many courageous heroes and righteous leaders setting the example, humans sinned. They made mistakes, and on occasion they didn't repent for it. Then they worshiped the gods whose faith was sourced from these flawed humans, which ended up affecting and poisoning the deities themselves. Receiving [Evil] from their time in the battlefield – wounded, exhausted, with their guards down – along with from their own worshipers hastened the process.

The biggest victim of them all stood just behind the outer circumference of the circle the five tomes created around Pandora.

An elderly, yet well-built god. His muscular frame, normally filled with authority and power, emitted only obedience instead.

Zeus, the King of the Gods, knelt respectfully – no, _reverently_ – towards the young girl, with eyes clouded over.

The five tomes opened their covers, flipping the seemingly never-ending pages. The words and symbols inside floated, then danced and flowed through the air, glowing with unbridled, pure _power_, much more than Zeus could ever hope to have at any moment in his life.

Goetia. Theurgia. Paulina. Almadel. Notoria.

The five tomes, with names from the future – as they're currently nameless to him, awaiting their master's awakening – formed a hideous being from those words and symbols.

A large body, with rippling muscle tissue seemingly made from an unknown, indestructible material, holding a large single eye in the middle of its chest. Grotesque horns curled and stabbed and fluttered through the air from its forehead, majestically showcasing its strength in front of Zeus. Its hands and fingers were covered in impenetrable scales, with ten rings encircling the latter.

The being had no mouth, yet Zeus heard its voice, loud and clear.

[You are afraid.]

Zeus bowed even deeper from his position. "Yes, I am."

[Of your fate, or your children's?]

"Both," he replied respectfully.

[Very well. We have heard your plight, o captor of our Master.]

"Do you… wish to free her?" The King of Gods weakly asked, scared of a rejection.

Somehow, he understood the _thing_ replied to him with a laugh. In no way it was a pleasant sound – grating, all-consuming, _corrupting_. He could feel his Divine Essence struggling for survival after being so long in front of it, yet Zeus held firm.

Either it's due to his determination, or his sudden and unnatural obedience, only Pandora knew.

Yes, even in her prone form, she was well aware of her surroundings. Well, not 'Pandora' herself, the original, but the 'Pandora' of today.

[Do you think your puny schemes can hold our Master?] It snickered. [No. this ridiculous farce is only maintained by her will, and her will alone. Not yours. Not mine. Remember that.]

Flickers of flame began to gather on the _thing's_ horns.

'_The Flames of Olympus…' _Zeus noted, trepidation building within him.

[You are afraid. That is logical. Understandable. You are, after all, _imperfect_.]

The being delivered the final word like a sword through Zeus's gut. [However, all you have to do is simple. So simple, in fact, our Master barely required your presence here to enable the chance of your wish coming true.]

"T-Truly? Pandora can…"

[Negative. **You** can, and will be the one to do so. Do not involve our Master in your petty affairs.]

To humans, the affairs of the gods seemed so far out of reach, and deadly if approached. Countless numbers of them had died due to their whims, which strangely hadn't affected their faith, but they knew full well they shouldn't meddle in divine affairs.

Yet, this being claimed there was _something_ beyond even that.

It placed its hand on Zeus head condescendingly, rubbing it like playing with a lowly pet.

[You simply have to destroy them all, no?]

Its voice was in no way pleasant, yet Zeus found himself unbearably attached to it.

* * *

This time, Medusa wasn't greeted by the endless darkness when she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Yet, the feeling of longing was still pervasive in the air around her, and also coming from deep inside her heart. However, she was grateful to retain her senses this time around, but in the end, she doubted it was a pleasant experience, all in all.

She reached out her hand towards the image spanning her vision, but an invisible barrier rippled strongly, preventing her from taking another step forward, no matter how she pleaded to her surroundings she was different than last time, and deserved so much more, instead.

She was strong. She had the weapons. She conquered her own self – or that's what Shirō claimed she had done. She had severed her own tainted fate, though with the help of somebody else. But, hey, wasn't that how it's supposed to play out? Wasn't she the pitiful one, saved by her loved ones, and transformed into something which _wasn't_ the Gorgon?

Yet, why couldn't she still reach her sisters, only a few feet away from her?

With tears in her eyes, she pressed her forehead into the invisible barrier, trying by all means to inch closer to her beloved siblings. They're oblivious of her presence, softly laughing and joking and playing with each other right in front of her, just like old times. Only the lack of a bullied Medusa betrayed this wasn't reality, but a punishment for the current Medusa's sins.

"Sisters…" she weakly pleaded, yet they couldn't hear her. It's obvious this barrier was impenetrable; she tried to summon the weapons her supposed slayer had given her to destroy it, yet she was unable to even scratch it. "Please… look at me…!"

\- Fwip.

Yet, no matter how hard she pounded her fist, the barrier budged no more than it previously did.

\- Fwip. Fwip. Fwip.

It absorbed her blows like water to anything entering it. Not even the aftershock reached either Stheno or Euryale, and they continued to chat among themselves happily, ignoring and abandoning their weeping sister on the other side.

What was she lacking? What hadn't she endured for their sake? Hadn't she suffered enough? Not even sleep could relief her of this regret?

"LET ME THROUGH!"

A bestial roar escaped from her lips, startling her.

It was a dreadful sound, impossible to be produced by a human being.

No, she wasn't a human in the first place. She was, and always would be, a _monster_.

Words of denial died in her throat as she remembered Shirō's and her mother's kind words.

'_I… am neither. Not human. Not Gorgon.'_

Just a little bit more. She felt like a missing piece was close to completing the picture she had in her mind, and if it did, she would be able to meet her sisters! She had to think! _Think!_

"OPEN THIS INSTANT! I AM… THEIR SISTER!"

She cried her heart out. It's with a voice completely alien to her – not when she lost control, and not when she was saved. A mixture of both, or perhaps a completely new one.

The tips of her fingers began to shine, not from within, but due to the golden scales starting to grow on her skin.

\- Blup.

"Eh?"

A different reflective sound happened, stopping her tantrum in place.

…and Stheno and Euryale looked at her.

In one moment, she was terrified they're looking through her, perhaps at another being behind her, instead of at herself. Perhaps, even after all she did, she was forever doomed to be haunted by their phantoms, with no way of release.

Then they smiled. _At her_.

The two of them used their palms – smaller than Medusa's, now that she's grown slightly – to overlap them over the barrier.

Then, with a push, Medusa was ejected forcefully from the dream.

* * *

"WAAAHHHHHH!"

I nearly jump off the side of the bed at Medusa's sudden cry. Turning around, I see her crying heavily, shoulders heaving this way and that, and I immediately grabbed her shoulders and hug her, trying my hardest to placate her.

"I'm here, Medusa. I'm here," I whisper to her ears, but it doesn't affect her as greatly as before. A feeling of dread begins to surface within me – what if all I've done has failed? "It's okay. Cry it out, since I'm here with you. I won't leave you, okay?"

At the very least, she hears my words, as her tiny head nods against my chest, wetting my shirt with tears and snot.

I continue to rock her for a while, rubbing her small back when she has hiccups. Fortunately, she's not screaming as much, as I don't detect anyone on the ship waking up. Her initial shout must've been quite low in volume, and combined with my sharp senses, it awakened me earlier.

"Uuh… Uwaahhh…" Medusa still sobs, though it finally lessens in intensity.

Gently, I reveal her face and wipe away the various fluids there, patting her cheek to check her condition.

"See? Everything's okay, Medusa," I say, trying to put on a strong face while smiling. "What's wrong? I mean, it's fine if you don't want to say anything. Just know I'm here, alright?"

\- Nod.

We spend some time in silence, with her burying her face into my chest once again.

Her tension is weakening by the second, and after a while, she speaks with a trembling voice.

"I saw… Stheno… and Euryale… Uguh…" She rubs her nose as it reddens to the point of swelling, adding, "I… was happy…"

"I'm glad. So it wasn't a nightmare?"

\- Shake. Shake.

"They… smiled at me…" She says happily, despite the remains of tears still falling down her cheeks. "But… it wasn't time for me to meet them yet…"

"Of course it's not. I said so earlier, remember?" I answer. "Your job, now, is to live in their stead. Be happy, as you atone for your mistakes. I'm sure they hate your tears as much as I or your mother does."

Wiping the rest of the tears and snot with my longsleeve's cuff, I pat her head with a 'good job' expression. "Did you make any progress with yourself?"

"M-Maybe…" she softly, almost imperceptibly, answers, as if afraid of saying the wrong thing and upset her sisters' memories. "I-I feel close to… _something_. After that, m-maybe I can… talk to them without hesitation."

"That's great!" I squeeze her closer to me to express my adoration of her progress. "We're still a few hours from daybreak and docking. Do you… want to rest? Or get some fresh air?"

\- Shake. Shake. Shake.

Her denial is quite strong this time. Did I say something wrong again?

"I… don't want anything but you…" she says gently, "Please… let me stay with you until the end…"

As soon as she finishes her words, her head goes limp, sleeping adorably in my chest.

The sight brings something resembling a grin to my face, as I sit there, guarding her petite frame from all which may harm her resolutely.

* * *

**Glossary Update!**

* * *

**A**

**Athens**

Situated at the southeastern tip of the Attica Kingdom and being its capital state, Athens was a bustling trading city-port, easily the largest commercial harbor in all Mycenaean Greece. It commanded the greatest number of naval territory, and while its mainland territory was relatively small, it counted the numerous islands and archipelagos in the Aegean Sea, all the way across it towards the western shores of Persia, and some smaller shore-towns to the northern seas as its jurisdiction. As a result, most Athenians were capable seafarers and marine adventurers, mastering the tricky seas and storms of the Aegean Sea to provide safe haven for international trade.

Supervised by Athena, the Goddess of [Warfare], [Wisdom], [Arts], and [Freedom], its marine military might unmatched in the era. The polis was usually a tidy and composed city, and laws were strictly enforced, but it resulted in plenty of bottled-up emotions which could run havoc at certain times of the year. Athena was currently negotiating with other deities to help manage this problem, though she hadn't succeeded so far.


	7. Fabled Encounter

**Hello, everyone! A bit of a faster update this time, since the words just flowed right out of my fingers. Hopefully this isn't an early sign of soon-to-come burnout, so maybe I'll pace myself more next time. Let me know if you want faster updates, nonetheless. I'm sure this chapter will contain scenes you've been looking for until now, though I'm sure you'll let me know if they're not to your satisfaction! One more thing - don't forget this story is written as FGO is being developed. If there's any deviation from canon regarding the associated characters, either between appearance, personality, and so on, I hope you guys understand.**

**From the mailbag:  
Lost Stardust1: ****Remember, this is a time before Old Testament, so the five tomes I mentioned wasn't exactly 'Solomon's'... yet. Also, regarding the last part of your comment, I cannot agree with you more.  
Hero of Justice Roxas: Both Ars Nova and Ars Almadel Salomonis didn't exist... yet. This is a time before Old Testament, so yes, your theory for that part is spot on. For the rest of it... you should wait and see!  
miguelgiuliano: [Excerpt from the review's reply] ...****the relationship between Athena and Medusa wasn't based on their looks - so if that's what you're getting from my description of the goddess, then perhaps my words have been misleading and incomplete. They're not very similar; thinking logically, Medusa was so similar to her sisters because they came from the same source: humanity's amalgamation of wishes. Athena had little to do with their appearance apart from actually putting them together.**  
**Depri Nemias****: Perseus and Andromeda will have more screen time later, in chapters shaped to be more like an omake for the future couple. For Angra Mainyu, I doubt I can satisfactorily incorporate him in, especially with my main villain having been set already, so maybe he won't show up in the main chapters.  
Trasgo Madaraz Artifex: ****Oh, just you wait and** **see...**  
**Daggerxxx: She's the most outstanding one among the triplets in all aspects, both positive and negative, representing the flaws she had, similar to humanity, compared to Stheno's and Euryale's perfect divinity. That's what I was trying to convey with that sentence; sorry if I was being unclear.**

**Also, thanks to miguelgiuliano for the image suggestion. Helps a lot!**

**Disclaimer: The poem contained in this chapter is an assumed excerpt from Emily Dickinson's _Complete Poems_. I own nothing apart from the plot.**

* * *

Unlike most girls her age, Atalanta lived by showcasing her base instinct and emotions to others. Perhaps it's a behavior unbefitting of a princess, but she never saw herself as one. Instead, she was a child of nature, first and foremost, then a priestess of Artemis. After that, she would be a bride to the man she loved most, a mate she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

Therefore, ignoring others' glances, she immediately ran and tackled the redheaded man as soon as he disembarked from his ship, nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck.

"SHIRŌ!"

He deftly caught her slender frame, lightly tickling the back of her lion ears with his fingers, an act which caused her to coo adorably.

The people coming down from the ship behind him stood there in a mix of shock and tender smiles, seeing the romantic scene unfolding in front of them.

However, one person decidedly chose not to do that.

"Mgh!"

Shirō tensed slightly when a smaller, lighter impact hugged his waist from behind, revealing itself to be a pouting Medusa. He couldn't get a clearer look of her expression as he's still hugging Atalanta, but it's clear the little one was displeased.

Atalanta realized it a short while later, and separated from him to glare with a dangerous look in her eyes.

"Whose child is this?"

Killing intent overflowed from her figure, overwhelming some of the rookie adventurers and the ship's crews.

"A-Ah…! Er, this is… Medusa, introduce yourself to her kindly, okay?" Shirō pleaded, cold sweat forming on his forehead. "This is my fiancé, Atalanta."

With a strong gaze and straight shoulders – a comical sight, given Medusa's short stature – she faced the blonde-and-green-haired girl and said, "I am Medusa. Shirō saved me. Don't be mean to him!"

She spread her tiny arms, but instead of coming off as intimidating, the image only served to elicit chuckles from the onlookers instead.

To Shirō's horror, Atalanta rushed towards the little girl. He was slightly too far – half a step or so – to get in-between them smoothly.

"W-What are you- Mugyah!" Medusa's words were drowned by Atalanta's sudden action… which was a _hug_.

"You. Are. Cute."

"U-Uh…? H-Helloooo? Miss Atalanta…? F-Fu-Fugyah!" Medusa, confused, tried to break free, but the strength of the Arcadian huntress was too much in this position. Plus, she was continuously patting and squeezing and pinching various soft parts of Medusa's body, breaking her concentration. "S-Shirō! H-Heeeeeeeellllllpppppp!"

"Where did you find this creature, Shirō? Tell me. Tell me, quick!" Atalanta urged her fiancé with a straight face, seemingly uncaring of Medusa's struggles. "Are there more cute children there? Please, do tell me. Hurry up."

Shirō could only sigh, smiling in glee. Calmly, he walked over to the entangled pair and gently separated them. "Now, now, patience, Atalanta. Let's allow her to rest and adapt to this city first, hmm?"

Atalanta's tail twitched, though her rather deadpan expression contrasted its movements.

"Spoilsport."

After saying goodbye to everyone, including the bickering Perseus and Andromeda, they headed off to Atalanta's chosen inn, but with Medusa held like a sack of potatoes under the princess's arm.

"U-Uhm… I-I can walk by myself…" Medusa mumbled, but Atalanta swiftly rebuked her.

"And let you walk all the way there while tired? Not on my watch, young lady," Atalanta quipped.

The younger girl looked at Shirō pleadingly, but he only offered an apologetic smile, as if saying, _"This is who she is. Sorry, bear with it for a while, okay?"_

That said, Atalanta was incredibly skilled, as Medusa could barely feel the sway of the former's steps in her position. Normally, a normal human would've felt sick, with a combination of their point of view facing the ground and the swaying motion wreaking havoc with the inner ears' canals' fluids, but Atalanta's movements were fluid and without waste. Even her footsteps couldn't be heard.

Her other hand was entangled tightly with Shirō's own, whose owner looked slightly embarrassed at the situation. Medusa sent him a fixed, strong stare at his helplessness, but it manifested as a childish, intense look.

"H-How cute…" Atalanta mumbled under her breath at that, which fortunately was missed by Medusa. It might've scared her even further if she was able to look at her carrier's face, which formed an intense, obsessive expression.

"Oh, they're back, everyone!" The proprietor of the Black Bull Inn greeted them, and the rest of the staff joined in unison. The couple was quite famous around town, as their relationship providing drama with each other's families, due to various reasons. The people inside were, however, taken aback at the sight of a small child hanging off of Atalanta's arm.

"L-Lady Atalanta… D-Did you engage in a child's kidnapping?"

The proprietor went silent under the huntress's glare. "Are you joking? That is not amusing in the slightest," she shut him down. Tossing a small pouch on the table after regretfully untangling herself from her fiancé, she added, "That's the final instalment for my room. I am leaving tomorrow."

"S-So soon?" The male owner spoke, rather disappointed.

Despite his inn's remote location, its reputation as a 'hidden gem' did bring good business among veteran adventurers, and Atalanta's regular stay bolstered income and spread its name. furthermore, the veterans were more inclined to tip generously, compared to the spendthrift rookies and journeymen. As a matter of fact, the gold coins contained in the pouch thrown by Atalanta was considerably more than needed to pay off the room she's staying in.

The group of three ignored the question and headed upstairs, locking the room both physically and magically.

Medusa was summarily 'placed' on the bed, where Atalanta fussed over her appearance and began to rummage about for a dress-up session. The little child was slightly scared at the intensity the older girl exhibited, though she stayed obedient. Her bestial instincts were telling her so.

Shirō, meanwhile, was quite used to this, and engaged the princess in conversation.

"Did something happen? You haven't hurried like this for a while." He spoke near her, clasping her slim waist in a gesture of affection. Atalanta squirmed for a better position to prevent his hold from delaying her work. "I'm guessing… something fortuitous happened? A good news, then."

Her lion ears straighten in happiness, as her tail swayed in unison.

It appeared his statement hit the mark, as she momentarily paused and turned around, placing one hand on his chest and another around his arm.

"I have permission… to marry you," she said, exhibiting the sweet, innocent smile she had only ever shown to him. "Of course I am happy-"

Her words were cut short as he hugged her tightly and quickly, though he decided not to say anything yet out of fear of fumbling his words. The tremor in his hand around her back conveyed enough to her, and she replied the gesture by rubbing his backbone, pleased at his reaction.

Stuffing his nose into her scalp and the soft hairs around her ears, causing her to mewl in ecstasy, he finally whispered, "I love you, Atalanta."

Her tail stiffened like a metal rod, as she mumbled a shy reply. "Mn. I know. Me too."

When they separated lightly, his beaming smile roused a fierce blush across her face, enough to momentarily forget of Medusa's presence inside the room.

Indeed, it was a truly momentous occasion.

Artemis's various priestesses across all poleis – every single one of them – took a vow of chastity, to emulate their patron goddess's traits. There wasn't any precedence for anyone to receive permission to rescind their vows from the patron deity themselves, not just between Artemis and Atalanta, but with all deity-worshiper pairings. Therefore, if this news broke out, there would be a huge shift in the relationship between worshipers and gods.

For instance, what if a no-killing vow was able to be rescinded? Of course, it must be for reasons the associated deity found good and proper, but it meant it allowed an innocent to spill the blood and scatter the soul of another. The simpler vows, such as prohibition from certain consumables, were seen as petty, but it could also change the lives of many people and several deities, as it could transgress into another deity's Authority.

Atalanta wasn't the first, but it could be the first to be publicly acknowledged.

Many heroes negotiated their vows with their patron deities throughout their careers, often after they achieved a certain milestone. Often times, it went well, and the deities loosened the moral, social, and magical shackles binding these heroes, but on occasion, the rejection for change caused the heroes to disavow their worship and move against their patron deities, creating powerful villains.

This was mostly done in private conversations and prayers inside either main temples or devout prayers, therefore, not many knew of these renegotiations. Perhaps Chiron held the most complete record of these changes, but even he didn't know everything.

A marriage between an S-Ranker and an A-Ranker, both of them royalties and first-or-second to their families' respective thrones? Not to mention their popularity among the masses, as they're both respected and revered heroes.

Calling it 'big' would be a massive understatement.

Amidst their happy occasion, Atalanta reminisced of the past, before the time the two of them met.

* * *

_She was born human, yet grew up a beast._

_Atalanta's uncle, the experienced hunter Ancaeus, noted when he first saw her._

_He rushed here, to the forests of Arcadia, when he heard the news of her banishment by his chauvinistic half-brother, King Iasius of Arcadia. Inwardly, he recognized the need to do so, as the royal line, traditionally, must be continued by men. Only the Amazons defied this; that said, that was their own 'tradition'. If other Greek states bucked the trend, issues from the people might arise._

_As a result, the news only went by the people's head as an information unworthy of their attention. They had accepted it and moved on with their lives – as they always did. Conflicts inside the royal family, though interesting, was a nearly everyday occurrence. In their minds, it was already fortunate the young girl wasn't executed outright, and was given a chance to live._

_However, placing her here, deep in the forests, full of wild, monstrous beasts? How was that different from outright beheading the small baby?_

_Ancaeus's heart thrummed with fervor he didn't realize he had as he ran like mad to his niece's last known location. He had already punched the group who carried her here for following through with such a ridiculous order – not killing them, though, as they're merely following orders. _

_Using all of his experience in life, he swiftly tracked the movements of the baby. He prayed it wouldn't be signs of macabre – trails of innards, or a severed limb… or __**worse**__ – and his prayers were seemingly granted when he caught sight of a toddler, quite tall and strong for her age, came into view._

_Right before a large mass of muscle slammed into his side, slamming him into several trees and breaking them in the process._

_He was a powerful warrior, though, and despite being past his prime, he was still capable of instinctively Reinforcing himself prior to contact. The area around him was flattened, yes, but he was essentially unharmed, apart from the growing bruise from the contact._

_He righted himself mid-air after tumbling into another tree, taking view of his surroundings._

_The beast – he assumed that was what hit him – was nowhere in sight._

'_**No matter,'**__ he thought. Hunting animals not always provide abundant visual confirmation; using one's other senses was vital to a successful hunt. He could feel the gazes gathering around himself from the hiding spots of the beasts._

_Yes, there's apparently more than one. Several, in fact._

_The next attack came without warning, in a similarly disconcerting manner with the first one._

_How were they doing this? Ancaeus was a veteran of the forests, and his instincts were even sharper than his prey. Despite so, he was completely blindsided the first time, and the sight of Atalanta's living form, though surprising and joyous, wouldn't hamper his senses in the slightest._

_A number of fang-filled jaws – four, to be exact – had already immobilized his limbs before he knew it._

"_Gah!" He couldn't help but groan at the pain, desperately Reinforcing his skin to prevent it from large punctures._

_However, what happened next was utterly confusing to him._

_The beasts holding him down were giant wolves. Though abnormally big when compared to a normal canine, they're a staple in various natural forests across Greece. Several packs were seen and well-observed by the forests' keepers, and places where they're overabundant became private hunting grounds to harvest their useful pelts._

_When they caught a prey, they would try to shear off its limbs and muscles to prevent fightbacks. With their large maws and long, jagged teeth, it was an easy thing to do. A human would've been devoured in minutes, skeleton and organs and all._

_Yet, they simply held him down with their front paws, along with their teeth's grip. Clearly, they didn't wish to kill him._

_Or worse, __**someone**__ was leading and controlling them, and they wanted an audience with him._

_\- Step. Step. Step._

_There was __**something**__ approaching from behind, large and heavy enough to cause the ground to tremble with every step._

_From his pinned-down position, it was hard for him to crane his neck to the source of the sound and quake, since it came behind him. He knew not which one was better: to know what was coming, or not? Simply close his eyes and await a painless death…_

_He gritted his teeth, slapping himself inwardly for his moment of weakness. His niece was __**right there**__; why was he giving up? Was his caliber as a man only amount to that much?_

_Slowly, agonizingly so, two large shadows hung over his head, allowing him to have a look at their faces._

_In doing so, he forcefully stuffed down a scream._

_A lion and a bear. No, to be more precise, there were two beings similar to a lion and a bear… but they simply didn't come in the size he's looking at, nor did they usually have this domineering presence, fit for a ruler of a fantasy realm._

_One casual bite from either beast would've easily separated his upper body from his legs; that, he was sure of. He then came into a horrifying realization after staring at their eyes for a while – they were __**intelligent**__. Enough to make the wolves submit to them despite coming from different species._

_Were they Divine Beasts? It would make sense; after all, it's not every time a pack of hungry wolves were made to wait on their meal by other animals, whose eyes just so happened to mimic human intelligence._

"██████_."_

_A strange noise spoke to them… Or, rather, it came from a different being entirely, of which Ancaeus's stomach decided it's time to drop in dread. Maybe it's faster for him to bite his tongue off? The __**someone**__ he feared earlier turned out to be true – there's another one who outranked the monstrous lion and bear._

_\- Srrt. Srrt. Srrt._

_He felt a small creature patting and crawling over his legs, but he lacked the courage to open his eyes – long closed from acceptance of death – to look at it and check. After all, what difference would it make if it's either a cute kitten or a demon? He'd be dead, either way._

"_Pa."_

_A tiny hand – definitely __**human**__ – smacked his face. Of course, it lacked the strength to make it hurt, but it was enough to bring Ancaeus out of his stupor._

_What greeted him was a pair of innocent, clear eyes, with a mix of brilliant gold and clear jade._

"_A… talan… ta…"_

"_Kya! Kya!"_

_The baby, barely the size of his burgeoning stomach clapped happily, as if she recognized who he was._

_He didn't even notice the moment the wolves released their grip on him, as he hurriedly hugged the frail body of his niece._

_There was no real thought appearing in his mind. His instincts took over, telling him to care for and nurture this young lady with his life. She adorably giggled in his arms, tiny fingers outstretched to feel and play with his scraggly beard – not as impressive as some of his comrades, but it's there – and it brought a never-before-seen smile on his face._

_The happiness of a father. That must be what possessed him at that time._

* * *

Ancaeus rose when his host arrived.

Now rather elderly, with graying hair marring his shoulder-length ponytail and mustache-beard combination, a groan escaped his lips at the sudden movement. However, nothing less would do to greet his esteemed guest, which he bowed lightly towards, despite the latter dismissing his courtesy with a friendly smile and casual hand-wave.

Chiron allowed him to sit on the very same long couch Atalanta had abused a few days ago, when she took shelter here.

As a hunter, Ancaeus knew the role of strength-based social hierarchy. After all, kill the leader, and the pack would submit. Still, he _was_ a noble, however estranged from his now son-less half-brother, and therefore knew quite a bit of proper etiquette.

One thing his niece should learn more of, apparently.

After some idle chatter, Chiron began the main topic: the reason Ancaeus was summoned here.

Truth be told, the elder hunter had no obligations, either to Chiron personally or to the Guild, to be present and accept the invitation. Much as the wise centaur tried to goad him into becoming an adventurer, Ancaeus had steadfastly refused to follow in his niece's footsteps. Why bother, he surmised, when there's plenty of better and younger bodies to take his place? He'd much rather spend his retirement days in peace, back in the old house he constructed for Atalanta before she moved out with her fiancé.

Taking his usual seat behind the main desk, Chiron started with a warning, "Arcadia is moving, and they're quite close. I think your brother is getting impatient."

A hearty chuckle came back as an answer. "_Half-brother_, Guild Master. As for that old goat… Well, I doubt he'll be able to do anything to Atalanta. Besides, that's not even mentioning the redhead boy, right? What's Iasius going to do? Bring the entire Arcadian army here, of all places?"

"It's prudent to prepare, nonetheless," Chiron grimly replied, not taking the bait to laugh off the threat. "There are many things a man of his stature, and _desperation_, will be willing to do to achieve his means."

"I understand. You want me to keep an eye on things, right? I'm already doing so; no worries," the elderly hunter shrugged. Despite his perfect sitting and dining manners, his tone and accent was rather rough, befitting his wild daily life. "You should be more worried about the political outfall; I get the feeling she's going to do something crazy if pushed enough."

\- Clack.

Putting down his mug after taking a sip – water, of course, during business hours, unlike Atalanta – Chiron seriously answered, "The thing is… that 'push' had already come."

"Eh?"

Bringing his fingers together, the centaur spoke, "There was an Arcadian messenger who got into… say, 'contact' with her. It… didn't end well."

"Did she kill him?" In Ancaeus's mind, Atalanta was the type of woman who would do exactly that if annoyed enough.

"A few broken bones and bruised organs, but he'll live," Chiron admitted. "I heard the incident escalated when he reached forward to touch her, perhaps for petty reasons, and she reacted violently."

"…I see." Ancaeus's throat suddenly felt parched, and he took a sip of the provided water. He winced right after that; after so long getting used to the clear, natural spring water, this magically-processed water – good for babies, he heard – tasted too artificial for his tongue. "Any warnings from Iasius? Or something like that?"

The centaur gently shakes his head, allowing his back-long hair to sway left and right. "Not yet, at least. I would like some more information regarding the current internal state of Arcadia, if you don't mind."

What Chiron was asking, if directed towards any other person, would be tantamount to asking the other party to commit treason against their own kingdom. Even a person of similar status to Ancaeus would be hard-pressed to casually give out what Chiron wanted, no matter how important the person involved in the case was.

However, the elderly hunter had lived too long, too hard to conform to such a 'normal' reaction. Still, he must be careful not to divulge anything vital or dangerous against Arcadia. No matter how he's frustrated with his half-brother, Arcadia was still his birthplace.

"Beyond what's in our routine contacts, there's not much concrete, new stories running around," he began. "However, if what you're asking for is rumors, then… Well, Iasius's desperation was apparent, even to the common people."

Chiron winced. "That could be troublesome."

A king must maintain his composure and dignity in most times, especially when in front of his citizens. If they sensed a weakness in their leader, it's not overreaching to think they could overthrow him swiftly. That was the reason why even small, short-lived kingdoms were impressive and worthy of respect on their own, since their progression into a territory of their own was an already commendable feat.

Maintaining it for generations, while also expanding one's territory? Those required a statesman of the highest caliber.

If Iasius couldn't be bothered even with that trivial matter, then he would delve into more extreme means to bring Atalanta home.

A large part inside both men in the Guild Master's chamber right now cursed at Iasius's own idiocy. Though rare, female rulers weren't a taboo or an embarrassment. The Amazon tribe proved it to the world that yes, the female sex could also stand shoulder-to-shoulder with males. Heck, despite having kings, several poleis were effectively run by a woman, by virtue of the leaders' connection to their patron female goddesses.

"Luckily, the people paid in no mind, at least outwardly. Though they, too, yearn for their long-lost princess to return, especially those who've seen her in action as an adventurer, they understood her reasons to stay away from the throne." Suddenly, Ancaeus's voice dropped a level. "However… Those 'reasons' I mentioned? The people's knowledge of her childhood circumstances were oddly broad. As if… someone deliberately spread it to become public secret…"

"Could it be her fiancé? He struck me as the person who had the means and desire to do it," Chiron mused loudly, mentioning Shirō's tendencies. After all, he single-handedly brought his uncle's – King Pelias of Iolchos – reputation down to its knees with this very same manipulation tactic.

Ancaeus, who had little dealings with the redheaded young man since the latter rescued Atalanta and romanced her, naturally knew little of this. Chiron, with his widespread intelligence as the Adventurers' Guild's Master, only had an unconfirmed inkling of this after he pieced together some circumstantial evidence.

"That boy? Shirō? Well… he sure didn't look that way to me," the hunter shrugged, his face showing jovial disbelief at Chiron's suggestion. "Now, I may not know him well, but I can still recognize a good man. He's… well, actually, _too good_ for my niece, if you want my brutally honest opinion."

\- Pfft…!

"Y-Yes… that's quite… _brutal_," Chiron forcefully replied, holding back the mirth forming across his lips. "T-Though I do not think Miss Atalanta is such a bad person."

'_She just needs to be taught some manners, that's all… Perhaps some common sense along with it!'_

Naturally, Chiron didn't voice his thought out loud. Instead, he continued with his prodding, "You know Iasius more than I do, or even most other people. What is the worst-case scenario he can cause?"

"Bringing down divine punishment? He has the means to do it…" Ancaeus's answer was swift, but damning in context. "Or the next-worst thing is an all-out war…"

"He… is _that_ desperate?" The centaur gritted his teeth, shocked and disgusted at the extent King Iasius's determination would go. He didn't even realize he's been addressing the king by name at this point; all manner of respect had long disappeared from his mind.

"Age can do wondrous thing to a man's mind."

"That does not excuse his behavior," Chiron spat out. Of course, there's every possibility Ancaeus's prediction would be wrong, but the old hunter rarely was; even if he did make a mistake, there was a logical, clear explanation on why things went haywire. "Should I prepare, nonetheless? Or other countries have done so for us?"

"They will, if I can spread the rumor. It'll be hard, though; I don't have the skills to blend back into obscurity once I did so. They – and most importantly, Iasius – can trace it back easily to me," the elder man said. Despite the negative answer, his eyes were still brimming with confidence. Either that, or a fool's blind bravery.

And Ancaeus was no fool, or he would've died a long time ago, in obscurity among other corpses in the forests.

But much to his surprise, Chiron shook his head at Ancaeus's suggestion.

"Hmm… No? Do you have other countermeasures in place?" Atalanta's uncle prodded, confused. The man who earlier made a murderous face, enough to scare little children into heart attacks, turned very calm. _Too_ calm. "Of course, there's no need to be so stiff. We're talking of the two worst scenarios here; they have quite a good chance not to happen. It's likely more messengers will pop up, though I'm not sure that's a good thing or not for you!"

Ancaeus even guffawed shortly after saying that, just to drive home the bait for the Guild Master to take. They had a good relationship, but even this had its own secrets kept separate from each other.

Smiling lightly, though it didn't reach his eyes, Chrion replied, "Well… it's not _my_ countermeasure, really. I'm calm simply because I believe other parties will discover this information in due time, and react accordingly. They are… trustworthy. No harm will befall your niece, or those close to us, I believe."

"Well, if you're that confident, then I should get going. The information we have isn't to my liking. Best be prepared for the worst than hope for the best, no?"

Chiron nodded. "Quite right. I shall trouble you for a written report soon, though."

"Eh…? You still want to read my handwriting? Didn't you complain it's hurting your eyes the last time?"

"I was buzzing with sweet alcohol, Ancaeus. Plus, I distinctly recall the messenger you used to deliver it last time was… _very _troublesome. Why must you pick Miss Atalanta to do that kind of menial chore? She was glaring murderously at me all the time; I was scared!" Chiron joked, motioning with his hand to permit Ancaeus's leave.

"You do have a point. Bye, then."

* * *

"Tsk, how annoying!"

After spending a few days on a ship – an experience Medea greatly enjoyed – they're mostly moving steadily through the plains and forests by hitchhiking on various merchant caravans. Their beauty, combined with their expertise in Magecraft, made it easy for them – though the constant cheesy lines and lewd leers got tiring after the second day.

That said, it was quite a long way from home, the safe haven and paradise of Colchis in the Far East. Even after traveling quite quickly and efficiently, they barely reached the western shores of the Persian Empire, on the eastern side of the Aegean Sea. They almost reached the harbor meant to take them island-hopping to reach Athens, and yet…

…her father's hired forces caught up with them.

Understandably, the King of Colchis was furious when he heard of Medea's escape. His daughter had hidden her desire for adventures very well, and he thought she was comfortable and happy learning Magecraft from Hecate at home. Paying tremendous price to get Medea noticed by the Goddess of Magic, his daughter's latest stunt put it all to waste.

If she was hurt, or worse, _killed _in her travels, what would become of Colchis? The king had always envisioned the next-in-line for the kingdom's rule: her younger brother taking the lead, while Medea supported him from the side with her Magecraft. The two of them were very good kids, barely conflicting with each other, unlike most royal families – so the king failed to notice and rationalize Medea's run.

'_Circe! It must be her!'_ He thought of his mischievous sister – always young in spirit, bless her – and concluded his daughter must've been corrupted by Circe's goading. _"Take them back to me. Do not mind a little bit of roughness; just do it!"_ He commanded back then, resulting in the current situation.

Medea swiftly evaded a tackle from a burly middle-aged man, a mercenary usually hired by the royal family to do various menial things. Of course, 'menial', in this case, didn't mean 'petty', as their usual jobs consisted of bandit hunting and occasional border defense.

She narrowed her eyes at the aim of his arms, clearly targeting not only her capture, but also grope her soft, young body in the process. One good hit with the larger staff head of hers to the back of his neck was enough to knock him out, especially when imbued with sleeping Magecraft.

As expected, in this chaotic situation, her more experienced aunt did much better. She barely needed to use her staff at all, simply punching and kicking their joints accurately to bring the men down. There was little need to conserve their lethality; though certainly not fatal, the strikes should immobilize them for a fortnight, at the very least.

The hired muscles dared to ruthlessly strike against the merchant caravans' crew, a cruelty Medea certainly couldn't stomach. Therefore, with a dangerous glint in her violet eyes, she channeled her Od and constructed tiny flocks of glowing butterflies, made of [Light] element.

They looked slow and graceful, yet as soon as another mercenary looked at them, they had already vanished and buried themselves in his stomach, along with his various colleagues' body parts. The blow generated from such small creatures was tremendous; Circe approvingly nodded when she heard the sound of cracking bones and bruised organs.

There was still close to a dozen men left, but with a wave of her hand and a rainbow shining from her eyes, Circe transfigured the unconscious people around into sizeable, armored boars, then letting them loose towards the remaining targets. Caught in the shock and disbelief at the feat, every head-charge met its mark and knocked them out.

The spell faded, leaving many grown, muscular men groaning and moaning on the ground.

With the cheers of the merchants and other people behind her, Medea wiped the sweat off her forehead. The battle wasn't particularly draining, but the sweat produced from it made her already-thin casual wear near-translucent. Knowing this wasn't the time to tease her niece about it, Circe promptly covered Medea's body with her sprouting black pair of wings, whispering the situation to the beet-red teen girl.

A flash of light later, and a more conservative tunic-and-robe combination appeared on her body. With motes of purple, of course, but far thicker and warmer than her usual clothes. To be frank, the two ladies had little care for the temperature – their Magecraft was far too advanced to be bothered with that petty thing – and thus generally dressed for fashion, rather than function.

As they approached the coast, they should have more choices of more open clothing, anyway. They tried to buy a few sets from the merchants, but they utterly refused the money and gave a sack-full for free.

"Geez… Father is so stubborn…" Medea complained, her voice high-pitched and tired. "I'm just going for a stroll for a few weeks… Just a vacation! Why can't he understand that!"

Circe patted Medea's long violet hair, smoothing out several errand strands, saying, "Well, it's not like I don't understand his plight. If you disappeared somewhere without me knowing, I'll move heaven and earth to find you as well."

The younger magus sweetly smiled, eliciting a skipped heartbeat from within the older witch's chest. "But… we left a letter! I'm sure _you _trust me enough to let me do things on my own, if I informed you, right?"

Circe brushed her bangs playfully, replying, "Yes. However, that's just me; other people will react differently, much like your father."

"Muu… He should believe in my ability to take care of myself more…"

"He will. When he received the report of the men you defeated, he'll realize your improvements and give up, though begrudgingly." The two of them giggled at the mental image of the frustrated King of Colchis. "Besides, it's likely he's contacted Master, and she would've explained she gave her permission already. He won't complain then."

"Mhm…" Medea hummed, diving into her aunt's welcoming lap and squirming there in comfort. Circe laughed lightly at the ticklish contact, but she let her niece to be spoiled every once in a while.

The pink-haired witch remembered the time when they first met.

Medea barely was able to stand upright at the time, still hiding behind her father's legs when introduced to her and Hecate. Her shy expression was extremely adorable back then, but Circe doubted her Master's evaluation of Medea's talent. She was brought in to assist her education, partly due to her human side being closer to Medea than Hecate's divine emotions, and partly due to it being her graduation exam.

No matter how strong a magus of Magician was, it was useless if they couldn't pass on their techniques and knowledge to the next generation.

Over the years, amidst her 'fun' with various 'graciously-gifted' young men, she would often be at Medea's side, looking over her then-frail, tiny shoulders which was scrunched up in reading many tomes. Her younger apprentice-sister was far more diligent in her studies, that's for sure, and her talent soon bloomed.

It was great enough to rival Circe's decades of training and experience right now, despite Medea barely practicing for less than two decades. It's hard to believe, really – this cute animal napping on her lap could soon be the greatest magus of this era.

However, there was one last, final lesson she hadn't learned, one which all magi must experience. Circe had; Hecate had, as the first recorded magus and Magician.

Just thinking of this last ordeal halted her fingers, which were stroking her head to lull Medea to rest. Circe forcefully swallowed the lump in her throat, as to not warn the young girl of her current predicament. It was more difficult to deal with as a woman, especially one as innocent and naïve as Medea.

The young girl, going on her first journey in her life, had yet to experience _death_.

A magus must walk side-by-side with death, tasting both the pain and relief it entailed. Flirting with it came with tremendous torture, both to the body and the mind, as one's path to learn Magecraft was fraught with dangers. For example, there was an outlawed practice only a few decades ago, when numerous ungifted human beings – with little to no chance of learning Magecraft – forcibly created Magic Circuits inside their body by sacrificing the use of their nervous system.

The death toll at the time was shockingly low, but only because Hecate transmuted those Magic Circuits back into normal, living tissue, so they could live on. Despite that, there were plenty who became disabled as a result.

This was the first hurdle normal humans experience, one easily vaulted over by talent. However, even that could only take one so far.

Medea was at that precise crossroad, where to improve, she must leap over that gap between talent and ability. Failure to do so would mean instant doom, no questions asked.

'Death' didn't always mean physical demise. It could be death of mind, death of heart, death of soul, and so on. What's important for her to experience in this journey was the hurtful emotions which could negatively influence her growth, and for her to overcome that to become a better person.

But could Circe let that happen? To see this peaceful smiling face be wrecked with tears, despair, and regret?

For a person who's already like her little sister, far closer than their blood ties suggested?

\- Suu. Suu. Suu.

After a while, Medea's breathing slowed down, finally delving into the realm of sleep. Circe bit her own lips, before quickly swooped down and kissed Medea's forehead, earning a satisfied mumble from the young girl.

Her Master had secretly ordered her to allow Medea to experience pain. Circe's rational side recognized it was necessary. It was the hurdles she experienced in her life which forged her current strength, and that very thing was what gave humans infinite potential to surpass the gods. The more they struggled, the more they fought, the greater the benefit it held.

But, for once in her life, she would disobey her Master, pranks excluded.

'_I __**will**__ protect her. No matter what it takes.' _

She had little doubt this would bring forth a harsh punishment from the petite goddess.

But she would persevere. Like how a great magus would.

* * *

**Glossary Update!**

* * *

**E**

**Eastern Butterfly**

_The air is like a butterfly_  
_ With frail blue wings._  
_ The happy earth looks at the sky_  
_ And sings._

Medea's favored [Light] Magecraft. Employing a 'scatter' method rather than a 'point', where she spread the combination of Od and Mana around her instead of focusing it through a specific spot, it took the form of flocks of dainty, ethereal butterflies made of light. Her casting was also abnormal; instead of using [High-Speed Divine Words] to prepare it, she forcibly evoked the Mystery first, then chanted later to maintain and strengthen the executed rough concept. It classified as C-Ranked Magecraft, but could be scaled up according to the strength and will of its caster.

* * *

**S**

**Sexual habits in Ancient Greece**  
A curious study in anthropology, as this era contained a melting pot of various sexual dispositions. Heterosexualism, homosexualism, and those in-between were practiced with varying degrees of consistency. In general, most Greek citizens were more open towards blatant sexual behavior, both in private and public, than later civilizations. Both polygamy and monogamy were common, and the sole limiting factor was a party's members' morality and preference.


	8. Percy & Andy's Fun-Fun Adventures! (I)

**Warning: Omake inbound!**

**Hello, everyone, and welcome back! Like I said before, seems like I've been on fire lately. I want to take the time to welcome the new followers and favorites to either my series or myself, since I haven't done so beforehand. Hope you keep enjoying my work, and let me know what you think of them. Also, regarding the above warning, this chapter will focus on two other characters apart from the ones outlined in the story properties. Some of you have already asked for this, and I did have this kind of chapter already in mind. **

**Mailbag time!  
AznPuffyHair: The flashback was viewed from Ancaeus's perspective.  
SoftItalics: Oh, was that nickname a thing? I don't play FGO that much, so I wasn't aware...  
**

**Also, thank you for the Anonymous reviewer who keep on suggesting harem members. I appreciate your fervor, though I don't think I'm skilled or brazen enough to include that much women in one story. I want to focus on the ones I've decided right now, because my skill level is currently about this much. Maybe later on along the series...**

**Enjoy this quick update! Let me know what you guys think, as always.**

* * *

Other people's gazes hurt. _A lot._ Much more than Perseus expected.

Despite how he acted and his true heritage, he was, at heart, just a boy from a secluded fishing village. Yes, it's a very well-to-do village, perhaps closer to a small city than a backwater population, but it's a far cry from, say, the status of the person sitting next to him right now, eyeing him cautiously to prevent him from doing anything stupid.

'_Honestly… Just __**one time!**__ One! I made __**one**_ _mistake, and she's all over me…!' _Perseus grumbled in his heart at the side view of Andromeda's fair face.

Compared to the girls he fancied, she's certainly far wirier and lean, especially her outward behavior. Strong-willed, headstrong, and decisive – as commented upon by Sir Shirō – she's in no way the same with the meek and demure princesses he dreamt and fantasized himself to sleep. Her bronze skin was tanned quite dark, though not extremely so given her already-brown complexion, a sign she's not afraid to adventure outdoors and beat up men like him.

To be frank, this was the first time he's rather intimidated by a woman, enough to keep his mouth shut among the snickering rookies around them.

They'd just landed in Mycenae, where they saw perhaps the most beautiful woman in their lives jump into Sir Shirō's arms, complete with a set of endearing cat ears and long fluffy tail. Some of them who read about the high-ranked adventurers knew instinctively this was one of the top A-Ranker, Princess Atalanta of Arcadia, and immediately looked for a chance to chat with her.

Unfortunately, the woman saw Medusa, and the rest was history, with the little girl being carried off with a gusto like a sack of potatoes in her arms, ignoring even her own fiancé.

He and the rest of the rookies were summarily dragged by Andromeda to report back to the Guild, as well as receive their rewards.

She had seamlessly assumed a leadership position among their young group, and had even formed a small party among them. Perseus had wanted nothing to do with this woman… but he was pulled in nonetheless, much to the snickering of his new teammates. They're still looking for a capable veteran or two – an all-rookie party sounded good on paper, but experience could bite them harder than anything.

The three nymphs – his new teammates, which made him the only male in this awkward group – chatted happily with Andromeda about… _girl stuff_. Having his face pounded in by an S-Ranker had granted him the wisdom to shut his mouth at this moment and not interfere.

As per tradition, when the four women returned to the Guild with the other rookies in tow, it seemed customary for cat calls and whistling to arrive from the older male adventurers, who were quickly ignored by all the girls in the group. After all, with their physically-demanding job as adventurers, none of them had a shred of extra fat on their body, leaving their curves lean and tight. Mastery over their magic energy – decent enough, if not that excellent – meant their faces were bright and healthy, eliciting lustful desires among most present.

In the sexually-active and -free Greece, this was common occurrence. The men also didn't mind too much being ignored – their arrogance had long been tempered by the sight of female adventurers actually doing their job, garnering respect and honor from the men. It's simply the way of life, and how they entertained themselves during the down time.

To be honest, Perseus's large sack, slung over his shoulder, garnered more actual attention from the sharp-eyed ones there. He could feel their gaze eyeing him, waiting for an opening to reveal itself, before snatching whatever heavy, precious objects he's lugging around.

His face and demeanor looked absolutely the weakest among them, especially with his slightly hunched figure among the proud ladies, almost giving them the image of being the girls' pack mule.

Naturally, these were 'Noble Phantasms' gifted by his patron gods, replaced with items of equal value from Sir Shirō, and not that easy to steal. Sir Shirō only managed to do so with the originals because of his unique brand of Magecraft, and Andromeda did it only for very short amounts of time, as well as her upright and just character.

The Ethiopian princess marched to the queue – thankfully light at this time of the day – and quickly surmised their respective missions and how they resulted. It's an incredible feat how she could memorize all their stories, as they all had taken different requests and landing points, and formulate a report that fast, much to the raccoon-eared receptionist girl's astonishment.

Rookie missions were often short and with low reward, and they were processed quickly, despite the great variety of requests, and they were dismissed from the Guild. Some of them responded to the veterans' invitation for a drink – just staying alive in one's first mission was an accomplishment in itself – while the rest went outside for their own entertainment, aiming to spend their rewards irresponsibly.

Andromeda, predictably, didn't do any of these things.

She led the nymph triplets – Aigle, Erytheia, and Hesperia – as well as Perseus to find a reasonably-priced inn, where she quickly made a room the base of their operations.

'_P-Perhaps I've been too quiet…?! What's with this development speed?!'_ He lightly panicked, alarmed how easily he was swept up by her pace.

The triplets, each with different colored hair and soft scales around their nape and ears – as was the norm for nymphs – just plopped onto the shared large family room, earning them a light scolding from their 'leader'.

Aigle, the one with yellow hair and scales, buried her face into the mattress. "A bed! Finally, a bed! No swaying in boats on hammocks and straw-pillows!"

The middle sister, Erytheia, flicked her white hair to one side as she sat down more politely beside her playful eldest sister. "I have to admit, you have a good choice of inns, Leader. Maybe I'll stay with these deadbeat sisters of mine, after all."

Her words caused her younger sister, Hesperia, to quake, letting her long red hair shake about. "_D-Deadbeat_? Sister… y-you're planning to leave?!" Her voice broke in the end, as tears started to well in the corners of her eyes.

\- Plop.

Andromeda lightly tapped Hesperia's head, saying, "She's just joking, you know? Also, Erytheia, I won't tolerate that kind of jokes when we're on the job, alright? Your family may not mind, but _I _do. This kind of atmosphere can be fatal when we're doing more difficult requests."

The white-scaled nymph simply shrugged, though the eldest triplet pinched her waist in agreement, giggling at the sudden yelp from the middle daughter.

Perseus sighed, placing his belongings on one corner of the room. He didn't really mind the shared room – despite their personalities, staying in one room with 4 beautiful girls were every man's dream – but he's concerned about some things he must urgently do.

"Oi, pack mule, what're you thinking about?" Aigle grinned mockingly, letting her golden scales contort along the sides of her jaw. "Don't tell me you're already thinking you're a harem king of some sort?"

He clicked his tongue. "Will you just let it go? I made a mistake against Sir Shirō. _One_. Stop talking like you're perfect, you golden sloth."

Andromeda simply shook her head at the exchange. "If you have something else to do, hurry up. Team dinner will be at 6."

The party leader's firm and lightning-fast decisions shocked even Erytheia, who for once didn't have anything sarcastic to say.

He grunted as he hauled the Noble Phantasms over his shoulder, exiting the inn towards the nearby temples.

* * *

Mycenae proved itself as the main capital of Greece, agreed even by the arrogant and independent large city-states. After all, its location was incredibly convenient, being the major trading hub, as well as Chiron's presence as the head of the Adventurers' Guild along with the location of its main branch. Despite lacking true nobility ruling the area, the voted-upon governor did a sterling job in simply maintaining stability in this busy city.

Aside from trading, many temples for worship were also erected to cater for the differing faiths of both the permanent residents and visitors. It's not difficult to find the temples of each of Perseus's patrons: Athena, Zeus, and Hades, to return the Noble Phantasms and answer the likely-scathing questions from them.

He never felt as useless a person as he was now. Despite Andromeda's defense for him against that S-Ranker – a feat he's sincerely grateful for – his mood didn't really improve along their way back from the ship. The triplets, with their differing personalities, meant well despite their constant teasing of him, so he didn't really think much of their words, feeling they're just trying to cheer him up and take his mind off his problems.

That's exactly the problem: he didn't do anything. No… he _couldn't_, and wasn't even _allowed_ to do anything, just because of his choice of words. These gifts, then, amounted to nothing, which he expected to end up poorly with his patrons.

He was supposed to be the 'chosen one'. No one in history was ever gifted this amount of treasures in their quests… and he didn't even have the chance to use one of them. Medusa was supposed to be this… this out-of-control _monster_ who he could kill without remorse, not the cute little girl who'd endeared herself to the rest of the rookies – bar himself, of course – and the S-Ranker, Lord Jason.

Dragging his feet, he made it into Athena's temple.

Its design was quite unique, compared to the other temples. Perfect geometric shapes were liberally used, each calculated to extreme precision. It's a contrast to the usual naturalist style of Greek artists, creating a cubism-based space where Athena's worshipers not only pray for blessings, but also learn.

Scholars regularly frequented the front court area, where they claimed to receive 'divine revelations' easier than their own abode. These spots were packed with young children listening to sermons – after all, it's free education, so their parents were more comfortable sending them here rather than had them work in hard labor or spend their time uselessly.

As expected for the temple of the Goddess of [Wisdom].

Perseus's arrival was foretold by the goddess herself, who had contacted the priestesses to receive him personally and remove the delays which could arise during the hassle of something as trivial as an entry pass. They brought him into one of the smaller chambers at the back – the private quarters, where heroes were usually placed to commune directly with the temple's main god, instead of receiving mass blessings in the much larger main hall.

Perseus felt an itch inside him as he thought of this, because he's no hero.

He knelt on the incredibly smooth marble floor, much more expensive per tile than his own life if sold to slavery, taking out 'Harpe' and 'Gorgoneion' – which he named himself – from the too-small sack on his shoulder.

Almost without delay, a crystalline beam of light erupted from the room's ceiling, grabbing and lifting the two Noble Phantasm back to Athena's territory in Olympus.

Her voice echoed through the room. [How was your task, young Perseus? Is it fruitful?]

Due to the size of the chamber, the echoes were loud enough to pierce through the deepest crevices of his brain. He gritted his teeth in frustration – surely, she already knew of the results? Weren't the gods' eyes all-seeing and far-reaching, especially Athena?!

Her formal tone felt more mocking than Erytheia's frequent sarcasms.

His heart should be an open book to the goddess, revealing plenty of dissatisfaction. Whether that's directed to the quest, to Sir Shirō, or to himself… or all three, only he knew the answer to that.

"I have failed."

[Excellent.]

He raised his head sharply, glaring at the middle of the pillar of light. "So you _do_ wish for my failure!"

[I wish for you to _learn_, Perseus. Have you not done so?]

"Then you should've given me another quest! There's no need to embarrass me!" He growled. He couldn't be too loud, else the patrolling priestesses would detect something and rebuked him. "I do not understand why I have to be your _toy_, o' esteemed Athena, whose wisdom exceeded the heavens!"

Suddenly, he felt a tremendous pressure flattening him to the floor. To his credit, he wailed and resisted, forcing his puny arms to the ground hard enough to crack it so his face couldn't be buried into the floor, straining his muscles tremendously beyond what he'd used against Sir Shirō.

"AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Unfortunately, a split second later, his efforts failed, and his body was pancaked into the marble rubble.

Athena's voice was as calm as usual. [I admire your courageous speech, truly. Do you think such a small thing can offend me? Of course not! However, you must know where your place is, _human_, to earn the right to speak to me or the other deities that way.] She huffed. [Truly, if you have gone to my father's or uncle's temple first with this attitude, you will lose your life. Be grateful of my mercy.]

The pain from the blast made Perseus unable to answer back with anything other than a groan.

[Besides, did you sincerely think I would send you to kill my own daughter? Surely, you jest.]

"M-Medusa… y-your daughter…?" He trembled at the realization, both from rage and fear. "T-Then why…"

[She was in danger, both from within herself and from outside forces. I have thought earning other gods' permission for you to go to her side and rescue her from her predicament would be good enough… Who knew there was a third party aiming for this gap?] Athena's shoulder shrug made it through the telepathic connection. [I was forced to summon Jason to quell the escalating problem. It has nothing to do with you, Perseus.]

The 'Gorgoneion' stopped and rotated in mid-air, shining with an ominous glow, along with 'Harpe'.

[Those two weapons I gave you would be able to rescue her without fatal damage… in my original estimation. Due to said third party's interference, they were no longer suitable for the deed. Jason responded to my pleas the fastest; therefore, you were used as his stepping stone to reach my daughter in time.]

After a while, the pressure eased, letting him breathe out a heavy cough. There wasn't any blood, much to his relief, but the pain wrecking his muscles was still apparent.

"Does… L-Lord Zeus and Hades agree with t-this?"

[No. This was my decision. They have… _things_ in mind during that time,] Athena admitted, purposely being coy. [In any case, I have received these treasures back in exchange, safe and sound, with nary a mark on them. For that, you have my gratitude.]

The light disappeared, and so did the connection, leaving him breathing hard in that cramped room.

The priestess who brought him in gingerly but firmly carried his limp body off, showing strength belying her slender frame. Though her face was ordinary, her pious belief in Athena had blessed her with power necessary to chase out ruffians – common even in the capital city itself – and protect the temple from desecration.

Fortunately, he wasn't embarrassingly thrown out the main gates, akin to thieves or other petty criminals, but was placed in one of the larger side gardens where those who had communed with the goddess could recover. It's not often when a normal human being could withstand the weight of a gentle 'blessing', much less those who were actually punished by Athena.

"G-Guh… She went overboard, that wretch…"

Perseus cut himself off at the priestess's glare, who roughly dropped him onto the ground after that thoughtless comment, eliciting a pained groan from his mouth. He decided not to chase this matter further; he _was_ a wiser man now, he'd decided.

Maybe he should postpone his trip to Zeus's and Hades's temples…

* * *

"Honestly, why did you rope in that deadbeat, Andromeda? Emotions getting to your stone-cold heart?" Erytheia teased.

Even Hesperia seemed to agree to that statement, though she's too shy to let the expression get to her face. Her eldest sister, Aigle, playfully stretched her cheeks from behind to form a hateful mask, exaggerating her agreement to the critic.

The bronze-skinned girl glared at the perceived verbal attack, before sighing and replying with a much calmer voice, "I simply see the potential in him. Various gods agreed with me, as shown by the number of treasures he received. Sir Shirō did, too – I didn't believe him at first, but I'm starting to realize his reasoning."

"Are you sure you're not just… you know, have a _crush_ on him?" The white-haired girl teased, playing with her short bangs.

Killing intent instantly permeated the room, causing Hesperia to jump lightly with an "Eep!".

"Care to repeat that question?" Andromeda growled, menacing enough to cause Erytheia to cold-sweat.

Aigle was the calmest among the triplets, still maintaining her bubbly smile. "Now, now, let's not get tetchy on our first day, shall we? We still have the party to get to! Woo-hoo!"

At the very least, her cheerful interruption did reduce Andromeda's pressure, enabling her to say, "Answering your question seriously: Even if I was saved by a man-eating monster by that man, I wouldn't even have the slightest romantic thought flash in my mind. **Do not** speak another word of this topic, do you understand?"

Erytheia nervously nodded, gulping audibly.

The reason Andromeda chose these triplets as her first party members was also solely due to their talents and potential, though theirs showed up more readily than Perseus's. Experts in both [Water] and [Light] Elements, they formed an indispensable and versatile support unit for the close-range oriented Andromeda and Perseus.

To be frank, her family didn't really like to associate with nymphs, or demi-humans at all. That said, this was the same relatives who wished to marry her uncle, Phineus – an admittedly successful man, but _old_. Therefore, she held their opinions in very low regard, indeed, as proven by the amicable and professional triplets in this short partnership of theirs.

Just like Perseus, she heralded from royal blood, though her family's kingdom was of significantly larger area and wealth. As the princess of Ethiopia, her birthright was to rule the lands south of the Mediterranean Sea, from coast to coast, monopolizing the trade routes coming from the uncharted southern continent to patrons in various kingdoms in Greece.

Perhaps this similarity was one of the things which elicited a sense of camaraderie between her and Perseus, despite their differing personalities. He _did_ also protect her from Sir Shirō's phantom strike, which was a plus in her book.

Not that she'd ever speak of her gratitude in front of him. That's just gross.

After that incident on the ship, the rookies took off in different ports across the Aegean Sea. Some took on hard jobs across the islands, such as hunting wild beasts and peacekeeping from sea monsters, while others departed at the western coast of Persia, in the Mysia and Ionia Provinces, where the ship also refueled with food, drink, and ship hands.

She herself was undertaking an E-Ranked mission in Lesbos, harvesting sea serpent egg shells among the deep corals. The shells were used in a variety of medicines and cosmetics, which were also part of the request, attracting herself into taking it. While the corals were ridiculously deep – to the point she doubted how sunlight was strong enough to reach them, given the extreme cold and darkness – some helpful spells from the triplets supported her endeavor.

She repaid them by using her superior motor skills to reach the deeper ex-nesting spots, where the serpents often moved the more mature – and larger – eggs to utilize the water pressure to help strengthen the larva. The triplets, being nymphs, were surprisingly docile in the water, with swimming skills on par with the average human. The only physical difference between the two species was the fact the triplets could stay underwater almost indefinitely.

Aigle mentioned something about salty algae being bad for their skin… or whatever.

Perseus was… maybe sulking in the ship. She didn't get to see him come down before her departure point, and asking anyone about it would insinuate above-average care for him from herself, which she absolutely, _definitely_ didn't want to happen.

"U-Um…?" A coquettish voice called from behind her, causing Andromeda to squint her eyes at the speaker, before throttling back when her action caused Hesperia to squeak and hunch her shoulders together.

"Sorry about that, Hesperia. What is it? Don't be scared to speak your mind," Andromeda declared, feeling guilty of her own sharp attitude towards… well, pretty much every one of her peers. Sir Shirō _earned_ the respect he received from everyone, and she strived to reach his standards, one way or another. She must make a good first impression as party leader, after all.

"I-It's getting late…" the red-haired nymph mumbled, her voice timid and insecure. "S-Should we… look for Sir Perseus…?"

"Alright; first of all, he doesn't deserve to be called 'Sir', dear little sister," Erytheia pointed out. "Just 'trash' or 'prick' will do."

Naturally, the options were all internally rejected by the young nymph, shaking her head disapprovingly at her second sister's choice of words. "I-I mean…"

"Ignore her, Hesperia. I've told him the time limit, no? if he respects me as party leader – which he also voted along with you three – then he'll show up. If not, then let's just eat first. It's not like we're going to a fancy establishment or anything."

Indeed, their chosen restaurant was just across the street.

They managed to secure this lovely inn with their relatively meager pocket money due to the fact it's view outside… was absolute crap. There's barely any space between the front door and the next building – in fact, the entire building faced a brick wall, which was the rear of said restaurant.

Of course, sunlight had a lot of trouble reaching wherever they're staying right now, enveloping the inside of their inn in near-perpetual darkness. The proprietor of this place – a well-mannered old man, if incredibly near-sighted and thus had little sense of personal space – rarely used the currently popular magic gem lamps, choosing to use candles instead.

As a result, the whole place really did feel like a permanent haunted house.

This was the main factor behind Hesperia's nervousness, being weak to Wraiths and Ghosts… well, and pretty much most casual things. She's much too feminine that way, much to her sisters' frustration, as she's by far the strongest among them.

If she ever grew a backbone, even Andromeda doubted she could defeat her while also borrowing Sir Shirō's treasures.

However, the positive thing was the rent came cheap, especially because they paid long-term. Yes, it's a bit of a hassle going to and fro the Guild, since the incredibly narrow alley routed around the block before rejoining the main street, but at least it's a clean, generous space in Mycenae, the capital city.

Not even most merchants could brag to have such a big room to themselves in this area.

It also meant they needed to share this large suite among the five of them. Oh, she and Erytheia had little fear Perseus would be able to do anything, if he still cared for his genitals, so it's not an issue. Aigle was mostly glad she had a bed to herself again, since their parents – their mother, mostly, as their father had passed away, a common occurrence among nymph mates – usually asked them to share one bed.

"_Oh, you're triplets, aren't you? Aren't you glad to be close to your sisters, hm…?"_ That's how her mother usually rationalized her decision, as she prepared another bed for yet another generation of her children. The triplets had two younger siblings – twins, this time – but her mother's appetite for men seemed insatiable.

The three of them dreaded the day they became just like her.

…practically a slut, really.

Aigle's sure there's even some members of the ship crew they boarded earlier who had experienced her mother's… _services_.

Having made up their room and tidy up their luggage, which was meager anyway, they made their way downstairs and left for the restaurant. The proprietor was fast asleep behind the reception, so they decided to leave a note and went through the front door.

The restaurant which parked up its ass right in front of their inn, White Bull, was famous for its bull fried rice – itself a rare ingredient around these parts. Imported straight from Persia's eastern borders at a high price, the grain was very, very different from the regular wheat Greeks ate: sweet, soft, and fluffy, it's the perfect recipient for plenty of sauces, soups, oil… and all the bad stuffs for a woman's waist.

Right now, the four ladies didn't care one bit for that. They'd sailed for almost an entire month already, doing hard, tiring labor, as well as dealing with the stresses of unexpected meetings with monsters left and right. They deserved their rewards.

If Perseus decided he's too busy to indulge in this luxury, then they'd gladly take his portion.

The White Bull was bustling, packed enough that even with their previous reservations, it still took them a good hour before they're allowed inside. And that's not even because a group of customers had left their tables, either.

"Hm? Andromeda? Are you eating here, too?" Sir Shirō asked from behind them.

Andromeda swore she didn't just _squeal_ out loud, in public… in front of her idol, no less.

He was accompanied by the breathtakingly beautiful Arcadian princess, of course, as well as Medusa, whom the rookies in the ship had unofficially casted as their 'mascot'.

She had to admit, she was jealous of Atalanta's closeness to the redheaded man.

The latter was everything she's not: quiet, publicly reserved, with smooth pale skin and slender feminine charms, as if the earth itself had birthed her and passed on its best natural traits. Even her cat ears and tail were adorable! They weren't visible right now, but Andromeda caught enough of a glimpse of it earlier to admire them greatly.

Medusa's attractiveness didn't even need to be discussed, Andromeda having played with it for an extended period of time on the ship. The nymph triplets behind her were excited to see the little girl again, already swarming her and asking her questions, despite not having seen her for only half a day.

Having to swallow a large gulp of saliva, Andromeda managed to squeeze out, "Y-Yes… we have reservations, and are still waiting."

"Come in with us, then. Our private room has spare seats; it's too big for my taste, anyway," Sir Shirō nonchalantly said, much to the rest of the girls' surprise.

Andromeda thought a flash of irritation shone through Atalanta's jade orbs, but when she refocused to check, she only found the Arcadian princess's face back to its reserved expression.

The waitresses calling the names from the queue immediately stepped aside to allow the S-Ranker in. Some of the people waiting voiced their disappointments, but all of them recognized either Lord Jason or Princess Atalanta, and quietened down after the girl glared at them and bared her cute little fangs.

"Must be nice being an S-Ranker…" Erytheia whispered to Andromeda, who retaliated with a tiny pinch to the side of her stomach to shut her up. She's certain Atalanta's senses were plenty sharp enough to catch any of their mumbling – as a new party, there's absolutely zero reason to antagonize one of the top A-Rankers this early in their careers.

However, the green-haired woman seemed pleased enough, either by the general atmosphere of the restaurant or the golden-haired nymph's words, confusingly.

They were led by a nervous wreck of a restaurant manager – a middle-aged lady who kept bowing without any reason at them – to the third floor, where the private rooms were. The first two levels of White Bull were used as public space, with the second floor perhaps available for more expensive reservations, but the true big shots dined solely on the third floor.

Andromeda was alarmed when she saw the third floor… had _no one_.

Surely, a restaurant as popular as this would receive plenty of reservations from rich merchants and self-important wealthy bastards, both a-dime-a-dozen in these parts? Given Mycenae lacked any true nobility, they surely ran rampant behind the scenes, only kept in check at the surface by Chiron's influence?

So… why was this happening?

Unless… _'D-Did they reserve the __**entire floor**__?!' _Andromeda nearly screamed at the feat of opulence, though it's most likely Atanlanta was the one who actually did this, as Sir Shirō didn't really pay attention to these petty things.

Medusa was also slightly overwhelmed, rotating her round head left and right, admiring the incredible disparity of décor between this floor and the ones below. Gold leaf was used plenty in place of wallpaper, and instead of wood carvings, exquisite marble statues and furniture surrounded them. The air had a slight tinge of fresh bark and humid leaves, leaving a refreshing scent, though Atalanta – ever the critic – scrunched her nose slightly at the artificial manner the aroma was produced.

Sir Shriō noticed this, and chuckled while pulling her by the waist, distracting her enough not to complain outright at the elderly manager. From their conversations, the new party found out the owner of this establishment was a close relative to the 'Black Bull' inn proprietor, which explained the repetitive theme.

"That's… a bit _easy_, isn't it?" The second-eldest nymph muttered to no one in particular, to which the elderly manager smiled wryly. She had received similar comments in the past from those who'd just found out the two places' relationship, so it didn't bother her too much.

They promptly sat down at a large table, where the seat at its head was reserved for the S-Ranker. Without even ordering, streams of appetizers arrived, shortly followed by various soups and stews.

Aigle was already stuffing her mouth by the time Sir Shirō's hands indicated they're welcome to do so, much to Andromeda's embarrassment. Really? The oldest of the three sisters… and also the most immature? Was this a comedy drama or something? Fortunately, her younger sisters were far more reserved, eating with near-impeccable table manners.

However, seeing the veteran adventurers ate, the Ethiopian princess was quite intrigue at their seeming disregard for normal manners. Oh, Andromeda's never a stickler for these things, else she wouldn't survive one trip on that ship on the way to her first quest, but she thought both Sir Shirō and Princess Atalanta would be more… refined.

The redhead was enjoying his meal quickly with good gusto, not quite prim and proper, but certainly much more normal than his fiancé, who sometimes resorted to brutal rips of the food using her dainty hands. The only time Atalanta consistently used her cutlery was when she fed Medusa, who's already red in the face from embarrassment at being force-fed like a baby.

"Medusa, open wide… Aaahhh… That's it…" The green-haired princess giggled as she shoved the large spoon into Medusa's mouth, stuffing her to the brim barely after she swallowed her last portion.

The little girl had been looking for chances to get away, even pleading silently at Sir Shirō for help, but the man replied with a quiet apology, leaving her stranded on Atalanta's lap. She was being held like a pillow, though admittedly the older girl was careful not to dirty Medusa's clothes – brand new, compared to the simple robe she wore on the ship – with her stained hands.

The expression on Atalanta's face was the complete opposite of her reputation among the rookies – that of a cold, sharp, almost wild woman barely restrained by human teachings and her love for her fiancé. Oh, they'd heard the commotion she caused with the Arcadian ambassador earlier when they reported to the Guild, when she reportedly smashed him into the far side of the wall for the slightest transgression.

Given the Guild didn't do anything particular to punish her, it's clear where its stance lied. The Adventurers' Guild had never participated in any political games since its inception, and certainly not now, and not for _anyone_, _ever_.

Now, her facial muscles were loose, blooming in a satisfied warm smile at the fidgeting cute girl in her arms, who looked conflicted between feeling happy for being loved and bothered for being coddled too much. The sight brought smirks all round, even from the usually prickly Erytheia, given their previous relationship with Medusa and knowledge of her background

"Are you enjoying the meal?" Sir Shirō asked, more out of politeness than actual curiosity. He knew the answer would be a positive one, but it's a necessary part when one played host to a meal. "You can order anything else you want, you know? Don't be shy… though I doubt you'll be able to rampage again, Aigle."

The golden-haired nymph groaned, visibly deflating, as those present – bar Atalanta – remembered the fuss she kicked about when the meal on the ship wasn't to her liking, both taste-wise and the quantity.

"Muu… I want everything on the menu… B-But I'm full…" Aigle complained, placing her head on the table.

"Eh? There's still dessert, Sister," Erytheia remarked, fully planning on snatching her sister's portion just to see her wail like a child. "Are you sure you want to stop?"

Aigle had been eating most of the portions brought out, since Medusa's and Andromeda's relatively meager appetite meant there's more food for the eldest triplet.

Atalanta chimed in a rare occasion of talkativeness, "You should have eaten Shirō's home-made feasts. 'Tis far, _far_ more delicious than this place's food, so much so you cannot stop even if you wanted to."

"You made it sound like my food's a forbidden drug, dear…" The redhead smiled, but she quickly replied, "Is that not a correct description? The pleasure from my tongue was unforgettable…"

Aigle, meanwhile, had drooled all over her napkin, requiring a complete change before the next round of dessert arrived.

Finally, Medusa managed to wiggle her way out of the disappointed-looking Atalanta's grasp, and hid on Sir Shirō's side to avoid being snatched away again.

The break in tone served as a mark for a change in topic, thus the S-Ranker asked, "Seeing the four of you here, have you formed a party among yourselves? It's quite a good lineup, if a bit thin at the front."

"P-Perseus went somewhere a-and haven't returned, so we came here first…" Hesperia, who'd been quiet throughout the dinner, answered. "W-We're supposed to have our first t-team dinner tonight…"

"Ah, is that so? Then forgive me for intruding upon your plans…" Sir Shirō lightly bowed, causing the red-haired nymph to panic, stutter, and bite her tongue at the same time, prompting Andromeda to speak.

"Please don't bully Hesperia that way, Sir Shirō… You know her personality. Besides, a person of your stature had no place to apologize that way," she critiqued, before adding, "I am sure Lady Atalanta agrees."

A spark of approval once again flashed all-too-quickly across the A-Ranker's stern expression, but Andromeda was more prepared to catch it this time. _'This woman is truly difficult…'_

As if she was able to read her thoughts, Atalanta's shoulders stiffened and rotated to meet Andromeda's eyes, before a sharp glare stabbed into her heart, almost choking her in place.

"**Atalanta."**

A soft tap by Sir Shirō's hand on her shoulder released Andromeda from the huntress's invisible grip, before the dark-skinned young woman exhaled in relief. He sighed, saying, "Now _that_ was worthy of an apology from me. Don't reject it, for my sake."

Andromeda waved off another bow, silently acknowledging it.

"You're too strict on them. They're rookies, remember?" He chided his fiancé, who looked away with a huff, making him lightly shake his head. "Please don't mind her."

Of course, as rookies, there's no way they'd pursue the matter further with an A-Ranker, not even Erytheia. The silver-haired nymph did fix her stare on the Arcadian princess, though, as a show of solidarity for her team leader.

A knock on the door brought their attention to it, opening to reveal a sheepish-looking Perseus.

"Sorry I'm late, Leader," he said, bowing lightly to acknowledge the higher-ranked adventurers present. "Did I miss anything?"


	9. Paired Engagements

**Hey, everyone! Happy you all liked the last chapter, and equally happy to bring you a new one. That chapter will form a mini-series occurring throughout this story, so don't expect me to quickly churn out its continuation. Some of the characters in there will be used later in the future sparingly, but not as the main focus beside another chapter like that. On that note, DPSS** **pointed out several irregularities in the previous chapter, which I've corrected immediately. Check out the differences in there! It's my fault; not really writing and pushing through what I really want to say.  
**

**Now, let's go back to the main story... but before that, the mailbag:  
DPSS: ****They're the copies given by SHIROU to him. Remember, this is viewed from Perseus's and Andromeda's PoV, who lacked knowledge of the Noble Phantasms. They just think they're the same. Athena just didn't bother correcting Perseus.  
Mythic Imagination: ****Thank you for the praise. The one thing I need to make sure I do is to not overdo things like you mentioned. I try to limit it to only a few outright antagonistic people, like Erytheia, whose criticisms of Perseus came mostly from her own personality anyway. Most people will have good reasons to chide him, and most of the time Andromeda and the rest will act professionally around him.  
AznPuffyHair: ****In my opinion, Atalanta's strange moodiness came from her different common sense, given she's raised in the wild. I'm trying to portray her more animalistic traits, which may look like a hair-trigger temper, just like beasts. I think FA didn't quite exploit this trait as well as I would've liked, despite it being literally in her official character description. I can confirm to you she's not currently pregnant... in this chapter.  
Lost Stardust1: ****Thank you for the praise. The purpose of this mini-series Omake is to showcase how Perseus develops his character into his mature self in FP, as well as his comrades.**

**Warning: For you unprepared people, this chapter is also one of the reason this story is M-rated. Enjoy... or not. Your choice.**

* * *

_That day, the tranquil Arcadian forest was disturbed by a scream._

_Not that it never happened, of course. Plenty of careless trespassers had stupidly walked in without sufficient preparations, and were feasted upon by nature as a result. Their death screams, roughly equal in number between male and female, were a constant occurrence, to the point the forest itself earned a reputation as a 'man eater'._

_However, this scream was a little bit different._

_Not in terms of volume or gender. Women on the verge of death could shout amazingly loudly, as they felt their life force being drained out of them, accompanied with unbearable pain. Well, men, too, could do that, but more often than not, they're too prideful to let out anything more than a few pained, regretful groans._

_It's because it was accompanied by vicious laughter, one which could only be made by a being who knew nothing but violence and evil in their life._

_And it wasn't just one. There were two male voices, laughing mockingly at their prey, who laid broken in front of them._

_This female huntress proved to be quite a handful._

_Hylaeus and Rhoecus had plenty of love-at-first-sight situations, mostly right before they tore the female's clothes forcibly and penetrated her, but never did they experience such unbridled desire when looking at a woman._

_The first time was when she was bathing in the river. Her smooth, lithe curves, taut like a predator, with pearls of water washing off her perky nipples, down to her tiny bellybutton and thin bush. Her hair, a combination of shades of gold and jade stuck to spots in her nape and back, showcasing the alluring concave backbone. They couldn't see her face clearly, just from the side, but even that was enough to showcase her sharp, acute features, with just the perfect amount of feminine softness._

_Their members were already erect beyond measure by her wild beauty, akin to a jewel found in the rough._

'_**Calm,'**__ they thought at the time. A flower like this shouldn't be hurriedly plucked, but enjoyed and masticated over time._

_Therefore, they observed her daily habits. Her sleeping time, feeding time, training time, hunting time… The most important thing they discovered was she was __**alone**__. No reinforcements available. A prime target, then._

_When they acted, it was swift. _

_When she bathed, it's natural she'd left her clothes, gear, and weapon behind, either to river side or at home. They struck when she was completely naked and unguarded, using their powerful equine legs – their heritage as centaurs – to quickly cross the river before she realized what was going on and grabbed her body._

_Oh, she fought, all right. Her first kick, faster than any falcon, broke Rhoecus's nose, but her body position while held by her arms by Hylaeus prevented her from using more power. Another struggle, and one of her hands slipped through, hitting him square on the chest and knocking the wind out of him._

_One strong straight to her face was enough to knock her down to the ground. However, her eyes weren't dimmed yet, with no traces of despair and fear. Just the way they liked it._

_She tried to lift her upper torso, but Hylaeus whirled around and slammed his rear hoof into her stomach, causing her to groan out blood._

"_Break her limbs, brother!"_

_And so he did. With Rhoecus's assistance, they gripped her flailing arms and legs, then proceeded to snap them like twigs along the joints._

"_AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"_

_Her screams were sweet and arousing, nearly causing Rhoecus to ejaculate right then and there. _

_An elbow to her ribs and another small kick cracked her sternum, leaving her curled up, coughing out various fluids from her body._

_Finally, they could feast._

_Hylaeus spread her legs open – gingerly using her thighs, as her lower legs were quite mangled – revealing the saliva-inducing flower petal hidden in-between._

_\- Fwip._

_His view of the gorgeous pussy turned upside-down, before tumbling and rotating clockwise and settling on nearby._

_Before his vision went black, he saw Rhoecus, his brother-in-arms and partner, split vertically down the middle. The red line burst forth, showering his vision with guts and blood._

* * *

"Muu…?"

For Atalanta, the morning sunlight at times could be so overwhelmingly strong. It's due to her keen senses, far developed from her younger years through Shirō's guidance and care. It's great to see in the darkness and track down fast targets, but it had its drawbacks, especially as she had little control over it when she's just woken up.

\- Pa.

A small hand patted her cheeks, trying to bring her full consciousness back – or perhaps wipe the two tracks of tears drying out on them.

Medusa's small face came into view, her violet eyes staring in worry.

'_Ah, was I asleep?'_

The recollections from last night slowly came to her.

She received Shirō and Medusa from the harbor, then they… went home? She seemed to have lost track of time rummaging around for a cute clothes for the little girl to wear, and before she knew it, the stress of the past few days, combined with the elation of seeing the two, caught up with her.

She distinctly remembered Medusa struggling and squirming around in her tight hug, using the little girl like a pillow, but she couldn't think of much else back then, apart from how soft Medusa felt and how good she smelled.

Perhaps Shirō did brush her bangs and kissed her goodnight. Perhaps not. Either way, she grasped the tiny palms and wiped the rest of the tears off.

…before promptly engulfed Medusa in a tight hug.

"F-Fwaaahhhh!"

"Mmnnhhh… This is the best way to wake up, after all…"

"K-Kyaaahhhhhh! D-Don't sniff me a-all of a sudden…!"

After their 'dance', Atalanta finally calmed down and set the tiny girl to her side, who's blushing and fidgeting to be this close to the older girl. It felt like she's constantly being observed as a piece of meat, ready to be consumed by an apex predator. Barely managing to hold herself from hugging her body to protect it, Medusa eyes Atalanta, who's still quite sleepy, judging by the flatness of her lion ears.

Gathering her courage, she asked meekly, "H-Having a nightmare…?"

"Mn. Just… some bad memories from the past, 'twas all." Atalanta shrugged, though it's clear from the few moments Medusa managed to observe her sleeping face, it was anything but.

To be frank, if she didn't have a monster's blood inside her, Atalanta's embrace would've crushed a girl of her age and size. The lioness's stress was clear and quite frightening to watch from up close, as even murderous intent started flooding out of control from her sweat-soaked skin several minutes ago. Her sharp features, while noble and breathtakingly awe-inspiring normally, were contorted in pain and anguish.

Much like how Medusa felt a few nights ago, seeing her sisters' face and hearing their haunting voice.

The nightmare's strain on the older huntress was clear, as the previously-mentioned sweat dyed her thin nightgown translucent, showcasing her pert breasts and pink, perky nipples heaving in exertion. There was little doubt the area between her legs would've been very moist indeed from the negative emotions, as Atalanta began to wave the lower edges of the nightgown to fan the increased temperature she felt there.

Incidentally, a few flashes of the tender and taut flesh underneath elicited a fierce blush from Medusa, such was Atalanta's natural, wild allure. For the younger girl, who still had trouble controlling her bestial instincts, the effect would've been even worse. It wasn't even a particular passive ability or divine blessing; Atalanta, Artemis's priestess, was obviously and effortlessly _that_ charming.

Pushing her bravery to its limits, Medusa crawled closer to the yawning girl, overlapping and rubbing her palm over the latter's.

"I-If it helps… I-I had nightmares, too! A few n-nights ago… A-Ah, er…" Stumbling over her consoling words, she forced her numb tongue to continue, "E-Eh… Shirō said he'd be there for me! A-And I'm not scared anymore! S-So don't be scared! I… I and Shirō are h-here!"

"…ufu."

After a moment's silence, Atalanta broke down in laughter.

"Fuhahahahahahahahaha! Cheeky brat!" Her hand shot out to grab Medusa's head, ruffling her hair amidst protestations from the younger girl. Right after that, she curled her arm around Medusa's neck, though in a far gentler interpretation than her earlier actions. "Thank you, little one."

\- Chu.

"E-Eh…?!"

Atalanta walked off the bed with an impish smile, slightly uncovering one of her long canines, before heading off to the bathroom.

Medusa sat there blankly, with a finger tracing the slightly damp spot in the middle of her forehead, right where her mother carved the seal to suppress her powers. The red tattoo wasn't visible now, but…

…it's almost as if she could feel a motherly emotion from Atalanta.

That made her start to today's morning a bit better. Just a little.

* * *

"How are you holding up?" I nudge Medusa's smiling form, happily gorging on her breakfast. Receiving an enthusiastic, but muffled nods in return, I turn my attention towards her roommate, inquiring, "I trust you haven't been _too_ aggressive with her, dear? Please pay attention to her needs for space as well."

Atalanta merely looks up from her plate, growling lightly and kicking me in the shin. It seems she doesn't really appreciate a public dressing-down, although our breakfast table was more secluded from where the normal guests dine in.

Hey, it's the perks for being a couple of celebrity, I guess. Not that I'll complain – the food here, while simple, is hearty and delicious. Perfect for any tired adventurer. Even my 'chef' side can't muster enough energy to complain, right after the trip to Sarpedon and back.

I wryly smile, rubbing the top of her palm to make her relax. The corners of her eyes droop slightly in guilt as she squeezes back with her soft hand. Seriously, for someone who lives in the wild and practiced archery for so long, she has remarkably groomed… well, _everything_, really, not just the surface of her palm. Perhaps that's the perk for being Artemis's most prized priestess.

She'd love for us three to sleep in the same room last night, but I had matters to take care of. Firstly, Atalanta's job prior to my arrival meant there's quite a bit of loot to sort through, and she isn't a particularly tidy person in the first place. Combined with the Noble Phantasms Medusa received from Perseus, there was plenty to maintain and take note. Therefore, I rented one more adjacent room to do so, leaving the tired Medusa and clearly annoyed Atalanta to get together and 'healed' each other, so to speak.

Secondly, I needed to speak with Alaya regarding the latest happenings around Greece, as it has notified me of several important things.

I'm not prepared to lay everything bare in front of the girls I care about yet, which is why only Chiron truly and fully knows what I am. It's for the better, really – don't want those pesky gods and goddesses getting into my plans. For all the success I have in converting their thoughts into those which favor humanity, there's still a considerable number who'll reject his ideas, intentionally or otherwise.

The ones to look out for is still Poseidon, as per Athena's suspicions. However, she hasn't contacted me yet; perhaps she's still researching? Or maybe her progress is threatened by a fellow deity?

Those were the things Alaya conveyed to me, before it left nonchalantly. Typical Alaya, I suppose, since we Heroic Vessels must not know more than basic information regarding the fates of important people to prevent the timeline to be messed up too much. Regardless of the Quantum Time Lock, it still carries that risk; therefore, I must be careful.

The character 'Jason' isn't supposed to be this powerful or kind. Maybe that's harsh on the real thing, but no one can doubt he has an asshole personality in him. For a central hero, whose reach was comparable to Herakles due to being the leader of the Argonauts, he sure failed to properly command and take care of his various crews, which is what I'm doing right now.

That, in itself, is already a massive shift in reality. I don't want to think about it too much, though – hesitation is defeat. I should only think of helping as many people as I can, showing them kindness and salvation, and only manipulate things subtly behind the scenes. It's nowhere near the word 'practical' or 'effective', but saving people isn't supposed to be either of those two words.

It needs effort, time, and care. Though I'm limited in what I can give, at the very least, I can do much more than ordinary heroes, using the power and talents I am given.

For the people I've met, and the girls I've loved and cared for, that's the barest minimum I can do.

"Mugu!"

Medusa mumbles something incoherent as I wipe the corners of her mouth. She still hasn't learned table manners yet, as living on Sarpedon and feasting on human flesh requires none of those.

\- Jii…

I receive a sharp glare from Atalanta across the table, as if saying, _"That should've been me!"_

Noticing this, the little girl hugs my arm tightly and partially hides herself behind me, muttering, "Atalanta is scary…"

Now, it's the huntress's turn to feel like her heart has just been stabbed, exaggerating the pain in comical fashion to pacify Medusa. Though she's making huge progress, the Gorgon-in-child-form still needs to adjust with day-to-day interactions with other people, making her somewhat naïve and easily buoyed by certain situations.

After finishing breakfast, Atalanta hurriedly grabs my other arm and pull both Medusa – still clinging on to me – and myself towards her room.

"Don't you want to go out today? We're free, no?" I ask, but it seems there's pressing matters in her mind which forces her to act the way she is now. "Besides, aren't we supposed to be checking out now?"

"We still have time to spend," she tersely replies as she opens the door to her and Medusa's shared room. "A few hours should be enough, no?"

She places the confused Medusa and I onto the bed, before childishly leaping onto my chest in a not-too-dissimilar fashion to what Medusa did previously.

"A-Atalanta…? D-Did something happen…?"

Medusa answers in her stead. "She had nightmares. Crying, and all…"

A hand shoots out, as fast as an arrow, and pinches Medusa's soft cheeks gently, though clearly strong enough to stretch it a considerable length.

"Stop that, Atalanta," I berate her with a soft voice, taking the offending hand out of the swelling flesh on Medusa's face, who's grumbling incoherently. "You know I prefer when another person comes clean with me; isn't that what we promised _that night_, so long ago? To lay each other's self bare, and accept what it all entails?"

"Mumuuu…" Atalanta buries her face into my chest, clearly embarrassed, but still not admitting fault with her action.

I know it's hypocritical for me to say those words, but it's a necessity to confront a person with a warped common sense as Atalanta. I'm not saying she's the kind of broken human being similar to EMIYA, or even my past self, but growing up in the wild did have its drawbacks.

"Just… we are engaged, right?" She whispered, though still loud enough for Medusa to hear, given her close proximity. Looking up with upturned eyes, she leans closer to the side of my face, saying while blushing, "D-Do not just spoil Medusa… I-I wish for it too…"

For a moment, I sit there in silent, rather stunned at the sudden confession.

I recovered quickly enough to catch her lips before she ducks back in shame, allowing several more seconds than I usually do to taste the flavor I haven't done in a long while.

It appears I am quite backed up during the journey to save Medusa, as well.

Letting my tongue out slightly, I tickle the edges of her lips. It parts instinctively, allowing me access into her upper and lower gums, before being greeted mid-way with her rougher, shorter tongue as well.

It barely lasts more than a dozen seconds, but the sweet sensation is enough to stretch my internal time for far longer. Probably hours, days, or years; just how the ballads like to exaggerate these moments.

"U-Uwaahhh… A-Amazing…" Medusa comments from behind me, breaking Atalanta out of her stupor and forcing her to back away rapidly.

It has little to do with the accepted norms in this age, and more of Atalanta's own personality. Despite how direct she is most of the time, even when talking against her supposed superiors, to the point of rudeness, there are times when her pure maiden-like side come out, likely the side effects of her vow with Artemis. Oh, she's no innocent girl – far from it – but to keep her virginity, she regularly limits contact with the male sex, to the point even a brush from my fingers across her slim back is enough to send shivers down to the very tip of her tail.

Watching the prehensile limb, usually so flexible and fluffy, go rock hard just like a penis is quite funny. Naturally, she doesn't share my opinion on this, and is quick to pinch my side in retaliation.

I prevent further shaming of her by taking hold of Atalanta's lithe waist and brings her closer to me, almost to meld my body with hers.

"Medusa, behold: my wife, Atalanta Arcadia-Artemisia," I say proudly, which the younger girl replies with an enthusiastic clapping. Her eyes are shining brightly in amazement, the showcase of a childlike, innocent mind, as she congratulates Atalanta with all her heart.

"Congratulations! Er… so what does a husband and wife do?" After her beaming smile dies down, she asks me _the_ dreaded question, one every older relative must face at least once in their lives.

Coming back to the point of this era's norm, the Greeks are generally more open about their sexuality and its associated acts than modern humans. Prostitutes are allowed to roam the street in their translucent, sometimes even missing, clothes right in front of children. Young, handsome boys are taken in as lovers, and are _expected_ to, as a stepping point in their careers, by their superiors. Aphrodite's annual festival is practically a _very_ public orgy, for goodness's sake, where kings can fuck paupers and vice versa.

Admittedly, the first time I experienced this difference in my youth, I acted similarly to how a time-traveling person from the future would: with apprehension, at best, and disgust, at worst. However, soon, I realized it was simply the accepted common sense, and it even held a practical meaning: in an era where magic energy is abundant, talent is the sole limiting factor of a person's strength, and imbibing in other's bodily fluids might produce spectacular offspring. The chance was even close to half-and-half, making it an acceptable preference.

Naturally, there's the time and place where it's strictly forbidden. Athena and Artemis are the two goddesses who shun this practice, and their cults regularly debated for this culture's abolishment. Yet, there's too many deities who partake in this habit, even Zeus.

If the King of Gods himself does it, how can two goddesses prevent it?

It's ironic, given how apprehensive I was when giving Medusa my blood, back in the ship. Despite her diminutive physique, technically, she's already at a marriageable age. At the very least, she can already be brought into a household and taught bedroom techniques and etiquettes by an older attendant to please her future husband, who's likely to pluck her virgin petals next year anyway.

Therefore, while it may seem unthinkable for a modern-day person, to be frank… It won't be a problem, socially, to have my first wedding night right here, with Medusa as the witness.

I lean in closer, kissing the nook of Atalanta's jaw, eliciting a cute yelp from the girl. Seeing her cute reactions makes Medusa giggle in joy, as she circles around behind the older girl and hold her in place, as if offering the huntress's body to me.

"Do it more to her! She's funny!"

"B-Brat, w-what are you… Hyauh!"

An erotic squeak escapes her lips when I lightly bite her pointy lion ears. _'The cartilage here is softer than I thought,'_ I ponder, as I chew on them gently, nuzzling my nose into their furry cavities and kissing the crown of her head in-between.

"H-Hyah… S-Shirō… D-Don't…! T-Those placesh… i-is nyo-go!" Her words are getting more and more slurred. Her slender arms, those she uses to push away all the people around her who she doesn't respect or like, is clutching desperately at my shirt, enough to make her knuckles pure white. "Mmnh…!"

Further protests are drowned by a sudden French kiss, dominating her oral cavity. Some of her sharper canines poke my tongue, but my Reinforced body – out of habit – endures the pain and continue to dance, slowly subjugating the feeble resistance from her own.

I can see Medusa's small face peeking out from over Atalanta's shoulder, eager to watch and learn. After all, what I'm doing is little to no different than what I did to her, only without the magic energy transfer.

"Medusa, can you massage her tail? Yes, just like that – up and down, up and down. Gently, please; do it like you're tickling her fur."

By this time, Atalanta's moans have changed into tiny screams, her hips jumping every so often in rhythm with Medusa's playful hands. Not used to the level of strength the little girl's putting into, which is more than my usual touch, the huntress's reactions are quite extreme, but I hold her down by wrapping my arms around her butt and neck, while continuing to pet both her human and animal ears, nose, lips, eyes… everything, really.

"Ah, aah, aaaa… naaaa~ Ngiiiiiiiiiiiiii Higiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii !"

Ah, now I can't understand her words. Perhaps this is too much for her, too soon.

\- Splurt. Splurt. Splurt.

Large amounts of fluid gushes from underneath her linen skirt, as she trembles greatly. She manages to catch herself at the large moment, burying her mouth into my belly and screamed for all her life, muffling the sound.

"N-Nyaaaaaahhhhhh… F-Fu-Fuwwwwwaaaaaaaahhh…"

I stare at my 'partner-in-crime', who's sitting proudly on her knees after Atalanta crumples down, and give her a high-five.

Yes, considering these are her first days in human civilization, I'd say Medusa's coming along great.

* * *

The assassin – no, his official title was 'Head of Information Department' – sighed in disappointment.

As to what caused it, well… There were plenty of factors, really.

Disappointment over the quality of his employer, for one. He, and his colleagues, never doubted this aspect, simply because it's a waste of time and energy. They're trained and paid to do their jobs, not mull on the intricacies of politics according to subjective emotions. They should leave that for the nobles and royalties, and simply focus on their life-threatening duties. After all, with the risk of not going home with every mission, it took their entire mental capacity just to survive beyond a few years in this job.

Disappointment over the job he's doing…? Perhaps, since he didn't make any real progress over the task he's given. His heart had already partway given up on accomplishing anything major – the Iolchos prince, Lord Jason, simply was too powerful to have any weaknesses to take advantage of. The nameless man even felt these very gaps were traps to lure preys like himself in, so Lord Jason could finish them all in one fell swoop.

Even now, as he brought two women to the Black Bulls Inn, the silent observer continuously felt a sharp threat towards his entire body, akin to countless number of blades kissing their tips into every inch of his skin. The experienced assassin had been on the receiving end of many types of killing intent, yet he never felt one this strong and constant.

The very fact he could sense this meant Lord Jason – no, he's going by the name of 'Shirō', now? – was aware of his presence, and merely _tolerating_ him.

Once he made a move against the two girls, or an innocent…

The nameless man dreaded to know the answer to that.

For goodness's sake, he didn't even have visual access right now! Nor was he before, or the day before that, and several days before that…

There's little doubt a Bounded Filed was surrounding Shirō's private rooms, or whenever he wished for secrecy. Once again, the assassin had never seen this variant of Bounded Field, or one of this strength. It was simply… beyond comprehension. There was a member among them who specialized in this field knowledge – and she was summarily killed when she ventured _slightly _too close towards Shirō.

Right now, the department's elders and consultants were fiercely debating whether to get into the prince's good graces or not. Disregarding the political battle between him and his uncle, King Pelias, continuous monitoring had proven futile, and had merely taken unnecessary tolls on the department itself. Despite their cautious approach, they'd lost close to a tenth of all total operatives in this long-term duty – an unacceptable number, if only the client this time wasn't a _king_.

This department's been together since they're children – or whoever survived the arduous training, really. There were no elimination death matches to determine the best, or those sorts of cruelty, but the nature of the job meant plenty of the teenagers and young adults never got to live their full lives. Camaraderie was expected, but not prioritized – the mission was always the priority over everything else, but 'heart' and 'feelings' were allowed, so long as they positively impacted their duty.

Therefore, the nameless assassin was seriously contemplating on turning tail and defecting into the prince's faction. If he managed to do so quietly and quickly enough, he could be the first one, and naturally would lead subsequent members who joined him.

Well, that would mean the same position he's currently holding, to be frank. However, the leader of this faction would be significantly more powerful than King Pelias ever was, no matter how good a king he was now to his subjects.

Before he knew it, it had gotten far beyond sunset. Fortunately, today was the new moon, thus his perched position wasn't illuminated due to his fascination of a possible future and neglecting to move to a more secure location.

\- Schwing.

"Well, shit."

He was trying to adjust his viewing position earlier, but a sharp poke at the base of his cranium stopped him from moving further.

\- Srrt.

Slowly but surely, the sharp blade morphed and flowed around his neck, settling into what he presumed was a scythe-shaped weapon. He didn't dare to visually confirm that, lest his head truly flew off before he knew it.

Gulping in nervousness, he greeted with a trembling voice, "…Your Highness."

Shirō wasted no time with pleasantries. "Confirm mission."

The man hesitated, which was enough for the steel caressing his carotid artery to constrict, drawing several small streams of blood.

"O-Observation of Your Highness… a-and his associates," he gurgled out, careful not to cut himself anymore on the otherworldly sharp blade. "N-No kill order received."

His confession was greeted with more silence, which nearly made him piss himself. Earlier, from quite a distance away, the prince's casual killing intent was enough to make him pour out cold sweat. But now? Merely feet away from the redhead? Perhaps the heart attack from the fear would've killed him before this blade around his neck constricted further.

Before long, though, a rough, strong palm grasped his head through his thick hood, locking him in place.

"Make the order to pull out. I grow tired of your presence."

"W-We have our orders…! Y-Your Highness, p-please underst-"

"I _understand_ that you _will_ comply. Am I clear?"

The nameless man felt he had no choice in this matter.

Well, no; technically, he had two. It's all a matter of 'obedience' and deciding who to give his towards. King Pelias? Or Lord Jason?

Either way, he felt like his life wasn't long in this world anymore.

"To be honest with you, I am in a fantastic mood today. It's such a shame your presence ruins it for me. Now, I realize you are not in position to compensate me, so…"

The steel underneath his jaw retreated, but a rough yank lifted the man's entire body upwards, high enough to leave his legs kicking freely in mid-air.

"…give this message to my uncle, if you would."

Shirō placed his lips close to the side of the man's ear, speaking directly into his brain.

"**Come and get me yourself."**

* * *

\- Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.

"T-This is delicious!" Medea exclaimed happily, lifting the strange green hard 'fruit' for Circe to see. "Who can expect there's so much water inside this thing?!"

Smiling at her niece's excitement, Circe patiently explained, "It's a rare fruit from the south, cultivated here only recently. Savor it, since a good portion of our stipend is now gone. Well, until we gather more gold, that is."

The older magus leant back onto her rickety long bench to catch the sun's rays and warm her body. After spending so long on the rough, cold sea breeze and waves, it's a good change of pace to relax on the beach like this. She's taught Medea some specific Magecraft and potion to avoid excessive skin burns, which allowed them to spend practically the entire day under the bright sunlight without repercussions.

After they shook off the wave after wave of mercenaries the King of Colchis sent after them, they managed to catch their intended ship and sailed leisurely across the Aegean Sea. Their captain at the time, still relatively young for his profession, remarked it was an unusually smooth journey – not knowing Circe had conversed with the harpies, nymphs, and many other creatures beforehand to grant them a comfortable passage.

It seemed their presence stymied pirates in the area, but they also disturbed merchant shipping lanes periodically, driving costs up. Well, one couldn't live with only the positives, she supposed internally.

Medea had changed out of her traveling robe and donned on a new one they purchased in the last harbor city they visited. Clad in a form-fitting bathing suit – purple, of course – with frills above her chest and waist area, she was the epitome of sweetness itself. Her figure showcased the loveliness people associated with girls her age, without even taking into consideration her already-considerable natural beauty.

Her soft skin and flesh, clearly a product of sheltered and not-wanting-of-anything upbringing, flexed healthily above the bright white sand as she ran about to look for other unique things to eat and drink. Her hair was bundled tighter and higher to prevent it from getting unnecessarily wet or dirtied, yet the edges of her ponytail framed her firm buttocks perfectly.

Even Circe, a female relative, couldn't help but admire how lovely she's grown up, from the shy little brat wearing oversized magic robes back then.

She stretched her long, shapely legs – oh, what bait they were to countless young men – and exhaled in relaxation. Given the island they're on was practically uninhabited, this was more of a private resort than a public holiday spot, thus she didn't really need to constantly watch over Medea like a hawk.

Contrary to popular opinion, Circe _was_ a grown-up, responsible woman and magus. It's not her fault one of her dirty little banes of existence was raw, unabashed sex with younger men.

'_I mean – kings were allowed many mistresses; farmers were allowed to drink; gluttons were allowed to indulge in food. Why can't I do my beloved thing?'_

Well, her reputation was what created the rift with her teacher in the first place. Hecate was strict and, most of the times, unemotional, almost to the point one could mistake her as a golem rather than a goddess. Not even her aspect of [Trinity] could force a change of her daily monotonic expression.

"Haa… I mean, what's the use of three faces when you don't use one…?" Circe muttered to herself, her voice lost in the buzzing sea breeze.

Naturally, her teacher rarely appeared in her true form, but the magus happened to know the goddess could shift into any of her three personalities at the same time. The thing was… the three of them were practically the same. Dull. Stone-faced. _Boring._

"Mmnnhhh…" Circe stretched fully, allowing her slim and toned stomach to expand over her soft, long pink hair. It lacked enough volume for her tastes, but the color and luster of it was one she's proud of. Her lovers would've agreed to this notion, had they not been turned to little cute piglets by now.

Well, there's no need to mull on her robotic teacher any longer. It'd simply sully the holiday mood they're in.

Speaking of 'holiday', though… She had to admit, the two of them were running far beyond the scheduled 'one fortnight' Medea wrote in her letter to her father. Understandably, the king blew his top off – as Circe's small spies reported to her – and had redoubled the efforts to bring her back.

If this kept up, it's likely he'd resort to the Adventurers' Guild for assistance.

Although she was confident of Medea's skills – and her own, of course – Circe worried if they sent A-Rankers after them. It wasn't as if they're some sort of irredeemable criminal with the most heinous sins, but Medea's royal standings, and the money the King of Colchis would've paid, would incite those adventurers very well, indeed.

Who knew? Perhaps Medea would get a chance to meet one of her idols, after all…

As Circe closed her eyes, strength and tension leaving her body, the salty air entered her nostrils and gave her a fresh atmosphere. Strange, that – one would think spending a long time at sea would make them tire of aquatic sceneries, but this beach was truly a hidden jewel among the many islands of the Aegean Sea.

One of her nymph friends recommended this place. Their race and Circe held a long relationship of mutual understanding, sharing their interest in 'eating' young men. While their treatment of their 'preys' differed, it was enough of a fetish that it brought them together, along with several other species like a part of the harpies. In fact, this island's caretakers were all healthy young boys taken in as permanent lovers – those whose flesh hadn't been torn off their bones and roasted well done, of course.

Medea didn't need to know of these things, Circe decided. Girls her age should walk the world safely and under constant supervision, but still allowed freedom to take their own decisions and have their personal opinions of things. Both the good things and the bad would be good education for the sheltered princess, honing her body, heart, and mind.

Naturally, Circe wouldn't take it as far as her teacher intended, as she determined internally before. There were many ways to have Medea learn of pain without throwing her among the wolves, and having her soul raped into oblivion to create a great magus.

_That_ was Circe's life goal, now that she's fulfilled most of the things she desired.

* * *

For the first time in a long while, Goetia was worried.

While he was born intelligent and capable of emotions, it's rare he'd feel so strongly about something. Those two aforementioned aspects were his advantages over his four siblings, who specialized in other things he couldn't do capably himself; nevertheless, the being in front of him radiated so much _power_ and _authority_ it could, theoretically, take on his master and the five tomes itself.

The five siblings, born in the form of tomes simply because of their master's overwhelming might and knowledge. A bound stack of papers was purely the most efficient way to store the arcane and otherworldly information Pandora contained, such was the amount of evil she bore since her birth.

Goetia. Theurgia. Paulina. Almadel. Notoria.

Among them, Goetia was the only one currently active due to various reasons. Firsty, he was the best-equipped to emotionally and intellectually deal with other beings, whether they're divine or mortal. As the eldest, he, too, was the most energy-efficient when summoned, and thus the only viable option Pandora had, in her sealed state, to interact with others.

Plus, his grotesque humanoid form commanded great respect – if not outright fear – from his opponents. His siblings' true forms were often too incomprehensible to common sense that it could brought harm to the other party long before any positive impact was made.

However, this was one of those rare moments when he wished he had the other four's physical backing to face another being.

In front of his bound and chained master, past his vigilance and defensive stance, there was a large bluish-white sphere floating in the air. Pure, unbridled energy crackled and arced around its main body, containing both aspects of [Order] and [Chaos], as well as a heavy dose of the [Humanity] attribute.

To his knowledge, only one sentient being possessed all three of these aspects.

Alaya, the Eight Consciousnesses.

He didn't even want to think how it managed to infiltrate in this far, through the defenses of Mount Olympus and Pandora's Maze, without being detected by anyone, including him, the primary guardian. The guilt arising in him had already been shelved in favor of coldly calculating the most efficient way to protect his master – even if he had to forcibly awaken his siblings and engage in self-suicides against this transcendent being, just to keep Pandora safe.

After all, that was what they're born for, and the reason for their existence.

[This is rare. Taking action so brazenly; it's so unlike you, Alaya.]

His master's voice – _'Oh, how I've longed to hear it…!'_ – echoed across the chambers, granting Alaya the privilege Pandora denied Zeus. After all, the King of Gods was merely a third-generation deity, taking his position through force instead of earning it among the populace.

Alaya was not that kind of being. Long ago, it stood toe-to-toe with Gaia, Zeus's grandmother, the Ultimate One of this world. Now, with its Heroic Vessels, its strength was even greater than times past.

\- Emergency detected. Surrender immediately, Pandora.

A woman's laughter, equally sweet and chilling at the same time, rang.

The chains holding Pandora rattled violently, straining to contain the young girl's sudden rage and outburst.

[**Surrender?** And give up what has been denied from me; one which was destined to be mine?] Although the bound young girl still looked unconscious, somehow, Goetia could sense the fierce emotions filling the telepathic voice. [Do you think I wished for this state? To be placed as a sacrifice for a world which didn't deserve mine? I thought you were a sensible being; it seems I was mistaken.]

The entire chamber – no, the whole Pandora's Maze – groaned in exertion as Alaya's words triggered Pandora's nerve. It only proved what Goetia had suspected in the past – despite the efforts the deities did and the price they paid, even this engineering masterpiece would've failed to contain All the Evils in the World. His master simply _chose_ not to escape, biding her time to act decisively.

To end the Age of Gods, and reduce Olympus to ashes, like how they belonged in her eyes.

As a being born from the young girl, some aspects of the rampaging emotions did seep into him, eliciting a threatening growl from his maw. He knew he wouldn't be able to do anything to the spherical being in front of him – outclassed in every aspect – but his instincts screamed at him to hate and oppose the Human Order, which contained the source of his master's lifelong pain.

\- Second warning. Threat detected.

[Then come! Invite your Heroic Vessels here, and let them have a taste of my power!] Pandora screamed, with enough Conceptual Weight in it alone to fatally injure Zeus, if he was here. [I shall devour them, just like everything else. **You will not stop me!**]

With her last words, she attempted to banish Alaya away from her domain. This place, despite its initial designs aiming to contain Pandora, had long been transformed into her domain after countless years being suffused with her presence. Forcibly teleporting something was child's play for her – even for deities or other Divine Spirits.

Yet, try as she might, the glowing orb calmly floated there, its aura of strength barely rippled by the efforts.

\- Final warning.

As soon as Goetia heard those two words, he sprang into action.

It wasn't a decision he made after receiving a command from Pandora. No – his instincts, born from the amalgamation of the demons inside his master, moved his body faster than he could think.

Only one thing mattered now.

Protect Pandora. No matter the cost.

The other four tomes glowed and contorted their shapes, beginning to awaken during the vicious verbal exchange between the two powerful individuals.

\- Target acquired.

As he was already there, Goetia arrived first, bracing his body to receive Alaya's first strike and shield his master from harm. After all, his physical form could simply be summoned again and again, so long as his master still lived – it was a no-brainer.

Perhaps, for the first time in his life, he closed his eyes in trepidation. He had little doubt a strike from Alaya would be able to instantly obliterate his physical body… yet nothing came.

He opened his eyes to confirm. Yes – there was _nothing_ in front of him.

"Alaya… retreated?" He let out his deep baritone voice, seeped in confusion. "…Master?"

The young girl behind him stirred, confirming his suspicions.

Alaya's Heroic Vessel had arrived in this era. The Mycenaean Greece of today… was already under a Quantum Time Lock.

Target: Pandora's Box.

Of that, the inhabitants of this chamber had little doubt. They only needed to wait – Heroic Vessels' track record was exemplary, gleamed through Pandora's faint connection to Akasha, with perfect results every single time, unlike their Counter Guardians predecessors. Wait… until the Heroic Vessel decided to strike.

Never before they felt a silence so haunting.

* * *

**Glossary Update!**

* * *

**H**

**Heroic Vessel PANDORA**

**Title: All the World's Evil**  
** Predicted Class: Grand Avenger**  
** Gender: Female**  
** Height: 152 cm**  
** Weight: 44 kg**

**Alignment: Chaotic Evil**

**Strength: E**  
** Endurance: E**  
** Agility: E**  
** Mana: EX**  
** Luck: EX**  
** Noble Phantasm: EX**

* * *

**Class/Personal Skills:**

**Avenger: EX**  
Born to gather people's hatred and grudges towards herself, Pandora could transform any form of damage into mana generation. The damage could also be transferred into sufficiently close acquaintances as 'sacrifices', if she recognized them as beings 'similar to herself'.

**Independent Manifestation: A**  
The ability to manifest into reality without any proper support or summoning ritual, sourcing its strength from pure willpower and Conceptual Strength. Pandora became strong against instant-death effect and time manipulation attacks. It's a representative of her separation from the Olympians and their cursed blood, becoming another being entirely – neither divine nor mortal.

**Self-Replenishment: A**  
So long as she remained motivated for revenge, the World itself would recover any energy expenditures from Pandora endlessly. The amount she received was limited for any given amount of time, though it would continue to flow until she was back to a perfect condition.

**Fate Weaver (Fake): A**  
The sins contained inside Pandora had plenty of karmic debt tied within them, allowing her to study the strings of fate through the hatred and grudges. Unlike the Sisters of Fate, who held the [True] version of this skill, her ability was much shorter in range, though outwardly and directly more powerful through close contact.

**Innocent Monster: EX**  
Pandora, the first woman, was supposed to be one of the 'Mother Goddesses', worshipped by humans around the world. Yet, her name was now synonymous with the amalgamation of all [Evil]s, distorting her appearance, ability, and attribute, even though her 'box' was the one responsible for it. This transformation could be argued to enhance her strength much more than her original self.

**Summoning: EX**  
The Magecraft which evoked spiritual bodies from various backgrounds. Here, Pandora used her body, or what it contained, as catalyst for her summons. As a result, they were extremely powerful, but sufficiently deep attacks which utilized and targeted Conceptual Weight could travel into her core. However, one must truly defeat her summons, which was a nigh-on impossible feat.

* * *

Noble Phantasms

**Pandora's Box: Immortal Poison**  
** Rank: EX**  
** Type: Anti-Divine, Anti-World**  
** Range: ∞**  
** Max. Targets: ∞**

Pandora's internal Reality Marble, created after her soul's distortion when the sins took over and broke the original 'Pandora', fusing into the being she was today. Unlike most Reality Marbles, she required physical contact to bring objects in, living or inorganic, but very little effort to expel its contents. If she wished to, she could cover the entire world with its effects by coming into contact with Gaia, but she would be left powerless and without control over the things she held inside. There were internal arguments whether this would recreate her original 'pure' self.

A world without happiness, where pain and suffering were the norm. its effects were especially potent against the divine beings which imprisoned the [Evil] inside her. One step would first grind down the [Divinity] attribute, before the [Corruption] began and destroyed the victims from within. Pandora might choose to spare the lives of those she consumed, though inadvertently these survivors would've been broken to the point of no return.

Though cheerful colors didn't exist inside, it was far from the monochrome purgatory of Tartaros. The variety of [Evil] inside was able to warp the surroundings and perspective of each victim, tailoring the images and senses to each individual. Therefore, it could be said Pandora's Box was empty in reality, and it's solely the victim's presence which gave it contents and meaning. Perhaps, this was a representative of Pandora's inherent loneliness and desire for companionship, but she had long been unable to feel such emotions.

**Flames of Olympus: Torch Flame Kindling**  
** Rank: A++**  
** Type: Anti-Unit, Anti-Divine**  
** Range: 2~10**  
** Max. Targets: 10**

A derivative of the First Flame which Prometheus stole. Born from the splitting of [Order] and [Chaos], it interacted with the primordial elements to create [Life], beginning with [Darkness] and [Night], followed by [Light] and [Day], which ended with [Heaven] and [Ocean]. Thus concluded the first cycle of birth, before time and space moved with reality into the cycle of death.

The source of energy which birthed Pandora in the first place. Hephaestus forged her body, mind, and soul from this element, which contained traces of [Life] and [Death] as the first harbinger of the cycle. Supposedly, the Flame of Olympus was lethal to all, even the Blacksmith God himself, thus he utilized one-use tools in Pandora's 'birth'. The only being it wouldn't consume was its 'daughter', Pandora herself.

Despite its destructive nature, it was originally a protective element after it first existed. Only Pandora's corruption transformed it into a ruthless killing machine, uncontrollable by anyone. A stable time loop was created when the sins took over the mastery of the Flame of Olympus, transforming the eternal fire ever since it was first seen until today. Its original attributes could be observed through the life born from Pandora, especially the five summoned creatures she preferred. It could also be said this was the source from where the five demons, Pandora's 'children', came from.

**Lemegeton: Clavicula Regis**  
** Rank: EX**  
** Type: Support**  
** Range: 1**  
** Max. Targets: 5**

A series of five eldritch tomes, about the size of a large table's surface each. They were paper-thin skins – sourced from many different beings – bound by enchanted metallic covers. Every part of them was mystical, and even one separated part from each tome held enough dark powers to corrupt a hero. As they were born from Pandora, they could be called her 'children' or 'limbs', exercising her will as she was physically restrained.

Consisting of five siblings: Goetia, Theurgia, Paulina, Almadel, and Notoria, they each were the amalgamation and symbolism of the infinite sins and evils contained within the limited vessel of Pandora's body. In effect, they, too, were accessories to the Pandora's Box, but ones who could move and act somewhat independently from their 'mother'. They specialized in different aspects of [Evil], and thus physically represented themselves accordingly.

Whether they could communicate freely with each other and Pandora or not was debatable, simply because they rarely were active together in the same time period. Individually, they're not strong enough to break free of Pandora's Maze, the prison holding their 'mother', but any trespassers would swiftly be brought to 'justice'. As the last part of Pandora (the Box, the Flame, and the Tomes), they held a portion of Pandora's total life force, allowing her to reincarnate indefinitely if even one of them still existed.

* * *

**Q**

**Quantum Time Lock**

A technique devised by Alaya to facilitate the deployment of Heroic Vessels. Unlike Counter Guardians, whose lack of emotions and empathy allowed them free access into any point in humanity's timeline, either chronologically or geographically, Heroic Vessel's more complicated design – and the resulting Conceptual Weight – made it difficult to do so without irreparably damaging the targeted singular reality and the ones around it.

However, the naming of this process was slightly counterintuitive. This was more akin to pruning a dying branch to promote the growth of a new one, then surrounding the latter with media which supported its birth and flourish, instead of isolating a cancerous part from its connecting tissues, curing it, then reconnecting the healed part with the healthy part. The 'Lock' applied solely to the reality Alaya decided to abandon and overhaul completely.

* * *

**S**

**Sexual habits in Ancient Greece**  
A curious study in anthropology, as this era contained a melting pot of various sexual dispositions. Heterosexualism, homosexualism, and those in-between were practiced with varying degrees of consistency. In general, most Greek citizens were more open towards blatant sexual behavior, both in private and public, than later civilizations. Both polygamy and monogamy were common, and the sole limiting factor was a party's members' morality and preference.


	10. Duels in the Mind

**Hello, everyone! Welcome back to the latest chapter. It's both intriguing and kind of scary how popular the last two chapters were, given their very different themes. Ch. 8 was my first proper attempt at making an omake, and Ch. 9 was the most explicit chapter I've written so far. I'm glad they're as 'popular' as Ch. 5, too! I have a new beta client, too: Venompool. Check out his DXD stories when the chapters I've edited are up!**

**I also have several things to say first. Given the wealth of new information from FGO, it's likely I'll re-write HV-S01 in the future. To be honest, there are parts in that story I'm not too happy of, though I'm satisfied with how the story went overall. Also, I have several short snippets I'd like to add to the Epilogue, so maybe I'll add another chapter of that when I do the re-write. Also, given new characters coming up in the next FGO event are most likely from Ancient Greece, I'd like to preface this chapter, and the rest of the story, with the difference in character appearances are because of this unfortunate timeline.**

**Lost**** Stardust1: Yes, Pandora is exactly that. For me, I think SHIROU prefers blades, not blunt weapons, though he can certainly Trace it.  
tsun: ****Spot on!  
Stratos263: ****Yup. If you've actually study Ancient Greece laws and tradition, you'll be left with a "Really?!" in your head.  
The Rupture: ****I'm not sure yet. But yes, the Pandora in this story is a predecessor to the one in Kaleid.  
AznPuffyHair: Thank you for the long review. (****1) God of War inspires a lot of the background technicalities in this story, yes. As a matter of fact, the allusion of SHIROU's previous visit here is a direct shout-out to that universe.** (**2) Who do you think can slice a large centaur in half with one strike, and decapitate another with the same ease? Hm? Is there any better swordsman in this story? (****3) Yes, the 'Quantum Time Lock' is exactly that. It differs slightly from the FGO explanation. Regarding bathing suits, yes, they do have it, though very simple ones in historical canon. Because this is fanfiction, I took several liberties.  
Dark Durian: Thanks for the series of reviews. Haven't heard from you in a while!  
**

**Enjoy! Review, favorite, and follow!**

* * *

"Dear husband, wake up. It's morning already; can you take care of the kids?"

A gentle, chiding voice stirred Herakles awake. Stretching his muscles, each as large as a normal person's arm and tied together like inseparable cords, he opened his eyes to see his wife's lovely figure, instinctively smiling at the blessed image. Even after all these years they'd been married, his heart would tremble with uncontrollable love at the sight of her face.

"Hyah?!"

His arms, as big as tree trunks, swiftly pulled her close into his embrace.

Megara yelped with a voice she hoped her children didn't hear. After all, it brought memories of the countless wild, passionate nights, as her husband's scent enveloped her. Despite his rugged looks, he was a gentle lover – at least when he's sober.

However, she felt a distinct palpitation of his heart, with her face being so close to his diamond-hard pectoral muscles.

She patted his stomach with her smooth hands – far smaller than her husband's – whispering caringly, "Bad dreams?"

The hero's large figure shamefully nodded, a gesture he would only show to his wife. It was a rare sight of Herakles: weak, _vulnerable_.

Megara smiled, saying gently, "…we can take a few more minutes. The children could wait."

"Thank you, my wife."

Only the tears were missing in his current state, with his back slumped in defeat, even though it's the very same back countless adventurers chased after.

Once again, the vision of his family's body scattered all over the place invaded his sleep. Blood redder than his enemies' corpses, pink organs strewn messily and horrifyingly, with their heads separated from their body un-cleanly – clearly torn apart by force, instead of sliced off by a sword.

And their remains littered his hands, showcasing clearly the perpetrator of this gruesome scene.

'_Why did you show me this, Mother…!'_ He desperately cried out in his heart at the heavens.

This 'Mother' was, obviously, not his birth mother, but his stepmother, Hera. The former, Alcmene, was a mere mortal, despite her obvious beauty which bewitched the lustful King of Gods. Their relationship got into a rocky start ever since he was born, understandably. Having one's husband illicit children being such an influential figure was certainly… _inconvenient_, to put it mildly.

As a person who had many lovers, he understood this well. Over the years, as he conquered challenges one after the other, their relationship did improve, though only from 'hateful' to 'indifferent', as Hera had other heroes and champions to take care of.

But these… _visions_ – as they're clearly not simple dreams – continued to torture him for years on end. First, it was his early lovers, with whom their relationships were fleeting, who were pictured meeting a dreadful end. Then, after he married Megara, it turned into her and his beloved children.

Why?! Had he not proven himself to be a man amongst boys, performing feats of courage impossible for mere mortals? Had he not proven his familial loyalty to his father, and avoided cursing Hera for her antagonism? Had he not become a paragon of the gods, as a champion of champions among the demigods, spreading their names far and wide?

Only several seconds were enough to regain his composure, as he released his desperate hold of his wife.

Grasping her dainty shoulders, he smiled. "Thank you, Megara. I… needed that more than I thought."

Her smooth fingers traced the drool marks to the side of her lips, before she giggled. "Is that not why I am here? Geez, you're much more of a handful than the 'Herakles' other people know!"

He would love to join his wife in laughter, yet he merely stood up to dress himself more presentably and follow Megara's earlier request. As the household of one of Greece's greatest heroes, there's plenty of household chores to do. Even with servants and slaves, Megara was kept constantly busy with their four children. Watching how exhausted his mortal wife always appeared every night in bed, he decided to help more around the house these past few weeks.

It's a very welcome change, as Megara's complexion improved considerably, which led to a healthier sex life at night – a factor he certainly didn't mind.

A short while later, the servants in the large, sumptuous complex were greeted by the sight of the gigantic Herakles – relative to the normal man – chasing his three tiny sons with his sole daughter clinging onto his expansive back. The ground trembled with every step he took, though fortunately he had enough control over his strength to avoid cracking the ground in half by the end.

The image of a happy family brought a smile to the onlookers.

As celebrities, it was logical most famous adventurers rarely spent time with their loved ones. The younger ones were too busy clearing dungeons, fulfilling requests, or going on suicide missions to increase their rank in chase of fame and money, while the older ones were often away in consultation, or preferred solitude compared to the hustle and bustle of families.

Herakles, one of the S-Ranked adventurers, was under even more social pressure to be away from his family. If his status remained this way, in terms of number of the highest-ranked adventurers, then it might just happen and end his marriage early. The rise of Sir Seirios took much of Herakles's load off him, as Chiron was busy managing the Guild and couldn't take on requests.

Furthermore, with the increasing number of A-Rankers to cull down emergency situations and manage the gods' requests, it all meant Herakles could focus on only the vital things he was required to do: raise a family, and obey his father and stepmother.

In the past, this situation brought a sour taste to his mouth. Despite more free time to rest, for leisure, and so on, no man liked to have his 'space' intruded by another equal, especially someone with Herakles's temper. No matter how nice Jason – _'Ah, he's going with 'Shirō' now, right?'_ – actually was, and how much Herakles liked him, there's still a strong sense of competition between the two, mostly from the older man's side, having cut his teeth in the adventuring business for longer.

Additionally, there were rumors, initially, of how his stepmother fawned over this 'new blood'. Now, a rational person would've actually pitied anyone receiving such 'affection' from any deities, since it brought various troubles without fail, every time. The younger Herakles envied Shirō even more, no matter how well he hid it in his heart, lamenting why he, and _only he_, was hated by Hera.

She was his milk-mother, for goodness's sake! Through Athena's kindness, he was reared by Hera, but she instantly found out when he suckled milk from her with strength only he could possess.

She threw him away to the side. Just like trash.

He was far too young to remember that scene, naturally. Although he knew of several renowned scholars who proclaimed they could remember the time they were in the womb, having granted consciousness far earlier and clearer than normal mortals. But as he grew up, the teenage Herakles's enmity surfaced when he learnt of this story.

However, back then, he stuffed the negative emotions at the back of his mind, focusing on the life of glory and excitement foretold by the personification of [Vice] in his youth. Using his great strength – and on very rare occasions, his wit – he killed many and slaughtered even more, earning the respect and fear of his fellow adventurers. Eventually, over the years, Chiron acknowledged him as 'invincible in combat', promoting him to the highest echelon where previously only said centaur had: the S-Rank.

It was a wondrous affair. It meant he, a _bastard_, finally achieved _something_. Being an S-Ranker didn't present him with trophies or riches or other material gifts; it was an _honor_. For him, that was everything.

To show his parents that this child they once feared for his unstable mental state had become a proper man. To show his spiteful stepmother that despite her cunning and plotting, he had overcome them all and triumphed. To show those who laid down their lives to nurture his legend and fame that they did not die in vain – but as villains who shall forever live in the name 'Herakles'!

He endured much. People talked – of how he's not a hero, but a mass murderer instead. In an era where the two were often confused, a clear line of divide was forming among his supporters and detractors. He feared one political swing from Hera could turn everything against him, tearing down everything he's built up to this day.

Then, news of a rapidly-ascending rookie emerged.

At first glance, Herakles didn't think much of the boy. Yes, he's very well-built for a newcomer: muscular, but not overly so – more on the wiry side than Herakles's own hulking mass. Tall and slender, the Seirios back then was the optimal body size to cater to any situation.

The feeling remained, until the young redhead became Herakles's fellow S-Ranker in just 5 years. The latter did so in 3 decades.

To say he was 'jealous' was understating it. But then, so was many of his contemporaries.

Herakles only realized the folly of his emotions when he was reminded of his own experience in the Guild.

Since he was small, his parents, though loving, held a flash of unwanted emotion in their eyes – fear. He recognized it for what it was when he killed the pair of snakes aiming to assassinate his toddler self, along with his twin. As his parents swooped in and hugged them in relief, there was a distinct tremor in their movements, one which he would later associate with defeated beasts whimpering in anguish in front of his bloodied fists.

To them, he was a _monster_.

His deeds in his younger years didn't help quell this notion. As a young boy, he had little to no control over his strength, and more so his emotions. The sensation of unbeatable power coursing through one's veins, giving off an invincible feeling, was near-impossible to explain or rationalize to himself, much less his parents. As a result, he often let his talents overwhelmed his judgement, causing many destruction, injuries, and manslaughter.

How could he know? As no one taught him anything, no one sympathized with him, no one guided him to the right path, he lacked the orthodox system to build upon the person known as 'Herakles' as a man; a _human being_.

As much as he's hailed as the leader of the next generation of heroes, just as many people criticized him for his ways and manners. As much of the number of victims he saved, just as many people cursed him for the damages he caused, and the incidental dead bodies he left in his wake. As much as his accomplices revered him as their commander, just as much good men and women left him, dissatisfied with how different their point of views and goals were.

The person known as 'Herakles' was left bare for all the world to see, of both his good and bad parts. His heroism, his sins, his talents, his carelessness, his courage, his madness, his divinity, his mortality…

Combined with Hera's – and to be frank, most of the people he slighted – scheming, he endured a difficult life to this point.

People might point out to his affluent wealth, his beautiful wife and children, his stature nowadays… but they had no idea how painful his journey had been all these years.

To transform the child 'Alcides' to the demigod 'Herakles'… was a feat then-unheard of. Until Jason showed up, anyways.

Herakles's relationship with Jason – no, 'Shirō' – could be said to be quite complicated, though that's the norm in this era's Greece. As a warrior, he certainly respected the younger man – Shirō's S-Rank graduation test was a full-on, no-holds-barred combat against him, after all.

And the redhead won.

* * *

"Look, look here, Circe! What an amazing Magecraft this was!" Medea chirped excitedly, shoving the pages of one of her favorite tomes, complete with illustrations, right under her aunt's nose. "What do you think of this fight?"

It only showed how much money the princess came from. Most people in Greece were literate, yes, but only to the extent of being capable of reading public announcements and accounting. They're educated in public institutions and taught the basic letters, not the intricacies of the language itself, and spent most of their time dealing with single-use parchments and thin wooden barks.

Bundled publications weren't actually that rare, too. Most average merchants were able to afford it in limited quantities, and almost all nobles and royalties at least had a personal library for their private use. These were written _en masse_ by paid writers, and were usually of mediocre quality, in both the cursive style and accessories.

To have several gold-leafed and colorfully-inked tomes in pristine condition, like Medea, indicated their owners were of extreme wealth and/or position. Naturally, Circe advised her not to bring out her more expensive collections in front of the public, thus Medea's excitement when time and place permitted her to read and share the tomes' contents to others.

Now that they had a private beach with a private lodging, it was one of the few occasions she was allowed to do so.

Circe was slightly overwhelmed by her niece's fervor, and backed off slightly to see the tome's contents better.

It chronicled the famed duel between the two S-Rankers of this generation: Herakles and Jason.

'_Er… the latter's picked up the name '__Σείριος', hadn't he?'_

Clearing her mind from the sudden intrusion, she patiently waited for her niece to expand on her views. It's one of the tricks to handling her; being so intelligent and talented from a young age, she didn't always appreciate direct and constricting guidance from her elders. Thus, Hecate and Circe would lead her around the nose by pretending she had the lead of every conversation, with them only interrupting whenever necessary.

Medea took to it well, whether she realized their ploy after all these years or not. It kept the discussion going along her pace, and she preferred it that way. It could be anything: cooking, politics, science, Magecraft, history, and so on, but one shouldn't dampen her enthusiasm by taking the reins and initiative, but bait her to do so first.

"This, this! A rookie using strange techniques to hurt the invincible body of Herakles!"

Apparently, there's a crude illustration below which showcased a part of the battle. Well, 'crude' was perhaps an insult to the artist, since it's a well-drawn painting, albeit a hand-made one by a mortal. Circe owned several prints, taken from her 'lovers', which was magically produced, which led to a quality unmatched by normal means.

A large, hulking figure was depicted in it – unmistakably Herakles. However, his figure was encased in various glyphs, showcasing a myriad of weapon types covering what must've been every inch of his huge muscles.

A smaller, lither figure was drawn slightly further away, floating in mid-air, apparently jumping into Herakles with a pair of twin weapons in each hand.

"'He overwhelmed the senior hero with great speed and variety, uncatchable by the eyes!' Oh, and this one: 'Sword, spear, hammer, chains, single or paired and even more; the future is bright with this young man.'" Medea quoted some parts of the book, expressively pointing out several points with her fingers. "What Magecraft do you think he used? It seemed cool! Teach me!"

"Isn't it just Projection Magecraft? That's the basics of the basics, right?" Circe shrugged, trying to escape the situation. Medea wouldn't let up if she didn't play this right, which meant wasting their vacation time. "Even a child can do it."

"But a child can't beat Herakles! _This one _can! So it can't be a normal Projection, right?!" Medea whined, furiously flipping through several pages. "Here, see, see?! 'It was a brand of Projection unique to me, and difficult to explain or teach another.' Lord Jason said so himself! It's not impossible for me to learn!"

The older magus smiled knowingly, cupping Medea's soft cheeks rather forcefully to stop her blabbering. "And what will you do if it's a bloodline ability? Lord Jason descended from Hermes's lineage, however far removed. What if it's also a Divine Blessing?"

"Muu…" Medea pouted, though from her position with her face slightly squashed from both sides by Circe's palms, it made her look like an adorable goldfish. "But you didn't say it's impossible for me…"

Circe chuckled, taking the tome from Medea and placing it down to one side. "It's good to be curious and excited, but you need to read deeper into Lord Jason's interviews. Yes, never once did he say it's something unique to him, but he also never spoke of it being probably for anyone to learn. In fact, from my experience, people like you, Medea, had it the hardest to learn such powerful techniques."

"Why?! I want to!" She whined once again, though less forcefully this time, having seen the logic.

"Your talent is too… _diverse_, to put it simply. You're a fast learner, but this very ability – to master a great breadth of knowledge and skill – prevented you from mastering something more peculiar in nature. From my analysis, Lord Jason's Magecraft was something even our Master would be hard-pressed to replicate," Circe calmly explained.

Unfurling her wings, she allowed her Od to craft several tiny magic circles in the air through the black feathers, creating a virtual board where she could teach Medea better through visual media.

The two-dimensional figures on the book were copied and animated with numerous multicolor motes of light, showcasing not just Circe's great control over her Od, but also her understanding of the battle itself, since her manipulation was exceedingly smooth.

"Watch how he gathered magic energy to use his Projection; do you see anything strange with it?"

Medea mulled over the answer slightly, before widening her eyes in realization.

"The magic energy consumption… was too little! It could've even been _zero_! H-How's that…"

"Like I said, it's perhaps a peculiar quirk only Lord Jason could utilize," Circe explained with her index finger pointing up in the air. "There's a step in his magic calculation which allowed him to be so efficient – and create weapons powerful enough to subdue Herakles. Do you think you can learn such a unique technique?"

"Muu…" Medea grumbled. "How do you even know all of these things, Aunt Circe? Don't tell me…"

Circe grinned at her niece's unspoken suggestion. "Yes, I've slept with him."

"…!" The younger magus instantly turned beet red at the vulgar confession.

The pink-haired woman laughed, patting the steaming bed of blue hair. "Hahaha…! What, didn't you say you wanted to know more about him, so you pestered me for stories all those times? So, let me tell you how's he in be-"

"E-Enough!" Medea's palm shot out quicker than Circe's words, covering the latter's mouth. "H-How d-dirty!"

"You do realize it's time for you to learn these things, no? You're of marriageable age anyway; it's simply your father's being too strict that you ended up this innocent," Circe playfully teased, lightly pinching Medea's pointed ears. "What I can teach you are bedside manners, since I don't have any experience in long-term relationships. Are you interested, hm?"

Medea simply lowered her head, so much so all Circe could see was her nape, instead of parts of her face.

Sensing an opportunity, the older woman whispered seductively, "Imagine… your idol embracing you into his toned chest, and caressing you with his rough, strong arms…"

\- Poof!

"Oh, I overdid it."

Medea didn't even manage to catch Circe's comment, as she'd already fainted in embarrassment, face far too red to be healthy.

* * *

Æëtes the Eagle was surrounded by his most trusted people. Yet, their presence did little to calm the unrest in his heart, nor the thunderous expression he's wearing.

His daughter, Medea, had escaped.

Well, it's not as if it's an unprecedented event. Many stories of how sheltered young people tried to run away from their blessed life for various reasons – love, ambitions, or simple idiocy. He himself entertained the idea when he was young to escape certain responsibilities which he considered boring or uninteresting – yet it was those things which allowed his kingdom to stand until this day.

It's not as if it's the end of the world, either. Medea had long known her younger brother, Absyrtus, would inherit the throne. She wasn't incapable or weak – far from it – but her temperament and interests were simply unsuitable for ruling a country.

However, these realizations didn't even temper his anger one bit. On the contrary – it fueled itself to burn even hotter in frustration.

Medea ran from her responsibility, both as a princess, a woman, and a magus. All three attributes were necessary to protect and develop their kingdom, the glorious Colchis – yet she threw them all away like they're worth _nothing_. Oh, he's certain the gullible Medea was influenced by her carefree aunt, Circe, but the girl wasn't the type to foolishly follow something she inherently didn't wish for or strongly believe in.

Which meant she, too, like him, had contemplated this for a long time.

What hadn't he granted her? He collected reading materials and obscure knowledge just to satisfy her thirst from all across the lands, exacting a heavy price to the kingdom's treasury. He allowed it, because it was, at the very least, a secure future investment, as the accumulated objects could be used to educate young Colchians.

He prevented the nobles and other royalties to exert pressure for her hand in marriage. He allowed her to mingle however and with whomever she wished – boys, girls, from the rich or the poor.

All he wanted from her was _obedience_. Was that too hard of a thing for her to grant? He was her _father_, for crying out loud!

What did she know? She was young and inexperienced; for the vultures out there, she was nothing more than a plump prey to feed on, still snot-nosed and defenseless. Precisely because of her age and naiveté, she rejected his protection and coddling, considering them as 'overprotective' or 'restrictive'.

'_How absurd.'_

When he heard how she and Circe repelled those he sent after them, he could only grit his teeth in annoyance. Æëtes was a capable warrior – as most Greek adult males were – thus he had little time to deal with this directly with his own hands. The mercenaries' defeat only amounted to unnecessary expenses for the royal coffers.

It's a good thing most of them returned alive, though there's some particularly idiotic ones who didn't. Circe had been quite brutal on said people, as per the survivors' testimonies, when they aimed not to fulfil the mission, but harass Medea's youthful beauty instead.

Naturally, he felt no loss or grief from their deaths.

"You are fretting too much," a calm, cool voice called out from above him.

The men around him stirred in caution, but he waved them off.

Kneeling in respect, he, too, motioned those around him to follow suit. Ignoring their hesitation, he replied respectfully, "My thanks for gracing us with your presence, o Goddess of Magic."

Hecate's white cape fluttered as she slowly descended, herself manifesting from what seemingly was thin air. The Colchis Castle was equipped with anti-teleportation measures against assassins, but naturally the ruler and creator of the current magic system did not have any issue bypassing it.

It was, after all, the product of mortals with their limited insight. For her, who held deep connection to the Root even among her fellow Olympians, it was child's play, akin to stepping over a hedge made by a toddler.

With a 'clang', her large staff, adorned with intertwining triangles, four locking into a major one, tapped the ground, immediately dismissing the entire room bar herself and the king. Well, it was more of bringing the two into a separate dimension, removed from Gaia's time and space, where they could converse in private with time stopped.

She narrowed her eyes. Normally half-lidded most of the time, matching her nonchalant expression, it now bore a dangerous force inside it.

"I assume you know full well the conditions of summoning me, Æëtes. I shall not tolerate a petty excuse." Despite her minute stature, her clear voice was heavy enough to pressure the king into lowering his head by sheer physical force. "Do not make me chase after your daughter. _That_ is your family's responsibility in every aspect."

Æëtes's heart skipped a beat, knowing a part of his argument had already been closed off.

"I may have wished for it before, o Hecate. However, there were more recent developments which may pique your interest." Somehow, he managed to keep his nervousness away from his voice. "My daughter… is in danger. I beseech you to grant me a way to protect her."

"Oh? Explain."

He pursed his lips, mustering his courage – no, rather, it's more of a 'rebellious emotion' than that word. "Medea's journey to Mycenae would entail crossing through the Aegean Sea, where Poseidon's blessings cannot cover its entirety. May… may I ask you to assist her in troubled times?"

"Hmph, what dangers can harm her and Circe from those naval heretics? Are you insulting my teachings to them?"

"It is not my intention!" Æëtes hurriedly explained. While Hecate was rational enough not to physically assault humans at the slightest annoyance, she could, and _would_, walk off if he didn't do something. "I fear… there was a great disturbance in Sarpedon a few days ago, one my priests were unable to divine its true nature. For that to happen in an island around His Highness Poseidon's territory… is unsettling me."

Lowering his head even further, almost to the point of groveling, he added, "Pardon me for my rudeness, but… I am simply a father, worried of his precious daughter. I beg Your Grace to reconsider."

From his position, he couldn't see the Goddess of Magic's face, yet he could feel her gaze creeping into his very soul, searching for any weak spots or white lie. He's not sure whether there's such a powerful mental-attribute Magecraft, but… this woman in front of him could certainly wield it, if it existed in the first place.

And it appeared she found one, as the largest triangle on top of her staff, twice as long as her head, bashed into his.

\- Thud.

The blow wasn't loud or flashy, yet he could feel the entirety of his face's left side being torn off his skull.

"Aaa… A-Arghhh…"

The pain was immense, numbing his hands to the point where he couldn't even reach up to feel them.

"You lying piece of scum."

\- Thud. Thud. Thud.

The soft noise, of divine metal bludgeoning human flesh, echoed again and again inside the sealed space, each time messily shredding the flesh off Æëtes's bones with brute force.

"M-Milady… P-Please… M-Mercy…"

\- Thud. Thud. Thud.

Much like a chef tenderizing meat or grounding spices, the familiar yet haunting sound continued to repeat itself like a living nightmare.

Legs. Arms. Stomach. Posterior. Crotch. Nape. Eyes. Heart. Thorax. Lower jaw.

Nothing escaped Hecate's unrelenting punishment.

"Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh…"

With every hit, healing Magecraft instantly restored the torn part, allowing the goddess to indulge in her negative emotions regarding this man in front of her.

"Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh… Ahh…"

The interlocking triangles atop her staff was caked in blood, organs, skin, muscle tissues, and shards of bones, yet it still emanated a mysterious luster, devoid of malicious intent.

It was reflected clearly on Hecate's face. Despite the macabre she's committing, she remained impassive towards Æëtes's ever-weakening cries, nor the squelching of pounded meat and offal, nor the errand crimson droplets staining her white dress and coat.

Besides, she favored her large, cushion-like white hat the most, so as long as its clean, she didn't really mind. Glitters of light swiftly cleared the filth away from her holy body, anyway.

"I shall inform you of your kingdom's future. It shall be _bleak_, little Æëtes, precisely because of this. _This_, right here. Can you feel it, deep down into your bones?"

The sadistic pun didn't give the mauled king, now little more than a pile of pulsing meat, any pause.

"You _lie_, not just to me, your goddess, but to yourself. You claim you care for Medea, yet your actions proved otherwise. I stayed my hand for all these years because your lovely daughter never complained directly to me, but your words this time has doomed you."

Hecate kept explaining with stable, monotonous voice, "'A magus must experience death to grow'. I do not know whether the hidden meaning in that sentence can go through your insectoid brain, but I shall share some of my feelings: I approved of her desire to see the outside world."

"T-Then…"

"**Silence, cur."**

\- Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Your bloodline shall bear the greatest heroes in history. Yet, you did your best to waste that away by locking Medea in this admittedly-beautiful, yet constraining place. Perhaps that thing inside your skull is better placed somewhere else?" The cute, girly voice was completely the opposite of the ever-freezing stare of Hecate's eyes. "If only you let her go. If only you let her meet her destined husband."

She sighed, stopping her hits for a moment. "…then you shall live to your old age, instead of being gutted like a pig you are by Medea's hands."

\- Thud.

That blow smashed Æëtes's head to smithereens, yet its pieces rapidly fused together to form a frightened, broken face again.

"I shall teach you the true meaning of 'love'. Be grateful, son of Helios."

* * *

"Come on, now, let's eat the food Mother's made!" Herakles awkwardly tried to chase around his little children, who seemed to have suddenly decided to play tag with him. "She'll be mad at you if we're late!"

With his great strength and agility, he should be able to catch them much easier than doing so against arrows with bare hands. However, with his massive girth and height, using his physical abilities inside his house – wide enough for normal humans, certainly – would be _tight_.

Still, it was a good laugh and relaxing, charming activity. His business as an S-Ranker left him with little time to spend around the house; thus, an opportunity to be a part of his children's growth wasn't to be missed.

Though Hera never directly attacked his family, mostly due to pride, there's no such thing as being too careful, after all.

He heard she's currently busy patronizing her new champion – the other S-Ranker – and wasn't paying attention to Herakles. That's good; contrary to popular opinion, a divine interest on a mortal would only lead to suffering.

"Kyah!"  
"Waahhh!"  
"Mugu…!"

His three children giggled and yelled excitingly at having their collars caught by their father, before they're heaved into the air and deftly caught and landed on his large, broad shoulders. They clung on his head with their tiny, wiry arms, slobbering drool and a few excited tears on his hair.

Oh, how he wouldn't trade this moment for anything.

When they arrived at the dining room – more like a hall, to be honest – he corralled his children to take the seats around him, near the top of the table, shortly before Megara joined them.

"What's the good news?" Herakles raised an eyebrow, noticing his wife's unusual happy expression.

It's quite different than her afterglow following sexual orgasms, that's for sure, since he's already satisfied her last night. Also, being the wife of a famous hero brought many headaches, chief among which dealing with unsavory characters. Therefore, seeing her smile like this indicated something major – still good, but major – was about to happen.

"I heard our friend is getting married," she coyly said, gauging Herakles's expression.

Naturally, he showed a confused one. He had several true 'friends', who the two considered family friends, and all of them were of marriageable age. Since said age range was quite wide, it's difficult to know whether one of them was taking an additional spouse, or divorcing and remarrying, or getting united for the first time.

Not making any progress, he furrowed his brows and asked, "Who is it? Such joyous news shouldn't be kept so mysterious, dear Megara."

She giggled, sitting down with a graceful motion accentuating her curves. While inappropriate in front of their children, they're still too young to understand the intricacies of a woman's charm; therefore, Herakles let it slide without lightly scolding her.

"It's Lord Jason, dear. It's not publicized, but he sent a familiar to drop the news just now– And what's with that face?"

Indeed, her husband's playful mood had turned somber, earning her criticism.

"Well… he's not someone I can call my 'friend', isn't he?" He slowly explained, trying to use words which weren't confrontational or scandalous, while placing his children's portion on their plate. They're playing with each other harmoniously on their seats, giving the two adults ample room to discuss. "Despite what he's done…"

Megara pursed her lips. "It's precisely _what he's done_ that he can be said our 'friend', husband. Or are you such a small person that you can't let _that_ defeat go away?"

He winced internally, before immediately switching to another topic to distract his wife. It didn't really work – she's still visibly ticked off at his comments – but he used their children as social shields to cover him.

It was funny, in a way – a decorated hero cowering in front of his wife's silent pressure. Not as rare as one might think, though.

He reminisced to the few short years after Shirō made his shocking debut.

Their duel wasn't in public, with only Chiron and several other higher-ups from the Guild being present. After all, it's an S-Rank exam, and an entirely different execution to the lower ranks. Even examinees up to C-Rank were tested publicly and in groups, while those of B- and A-Rank held in private, though the results were often posted soon after.

This one was different, chiefly due to the rarity of people capable of reaching this step. Chiron 'knighted' Herakles with his current rank after his various achievements without the need of a formal test, but with this newcomer, there had to be one.

Initially, the rules were simple. Lord Jason – then operating under the pseudonym Σείριος – was to duel the mighty Herakles. It would happen under heavy supervision, but only in terms of collateral damage – Chiron had secured a large arena with heavy enchantments where both of them could go wild.

However, this parameter was based solely on Herakles's abilities and Chiron's foresight.

Naturally, everything which could go wrong _did _go wrong for Herakles.

How could they know the young boy, barely out of his teenage years then, had a variety of attacks which could slice through the protective barriers like butter? How could they know his unique Magecraft, executed so fast Chiron wasn't even able to identify it, despite his better vantage point and superior eyesight? How could they know he had prepared well – perhaps _too_ well – against Herakles's multitude of skills, as if he himself had foreseen the duel beforehand?

In reality, despite all these surprises, Herakles could pat himself at the back for putting up a good fight.

To be frank, he could scarcely have remembered the details of the battle; such was its frenetic pace and difficulty. Therefore, most of his accounts were via Chiron's witness, and what happened was equally mesmerizing and terrifying.

* * *

Laying on a bed, covered in bandages, Herakles was in an alien situation. Normally, he rarely got wounded from missions, and even if he did, his amplified natural healing – a trait of being a demigod – did most of the hard yards before formal treatment arrived.

Yet, here he was, strapped in, feeling _weak_.

Chiron visited him after several minutes, bearing heavy news.

"I lost, didn't I?" The younger man gravely asked, receiving a damning nod in return.

Closing his eyes in frustration, he braved himself to say, "H-How did it happen?"

Knowing Herakles's mental state, Chiron decided it'd be better to be straight up, instead of fumbling his response behind a consoling wall of pity.

Taking a seat nearby, he recounted the events unfolded yesterday.

"The first strike… was swift. Σείριος took it straight to you, catching you off-guard with several quick strikes–"

"I know how it went!" Herakles interrupted harshly, eliciting a painful throb from his chest. "Just… how did I lose…? What's his ability…?"

"Weapons. Lots and lots of weapons," Chiron flatly admitted. "The Magecraft he used to either summon or create them… was unknown even to our best intelligence officer. It seemed to be either a bloodline attribute or an original technique."

"Yeah, no shit…"

Even through the blurry fog of partial amnesia, Herakles could roughly recount how the duel went by virtue of cataloguing each and every wound he received. Wide, arena-covering slashes. Pinpoint precise stabs. Focused blunt force trauma. Lacerations from steel bindings. Scorch marks from either intense heat or electricity.

Chiron continued, "He was fast. His Reinforcement skills outclassed anyone I've seen, including myself, placing him slightly above your natural speed. That, and the ever-changing striking distance from his myriad weapons, sealed the deal."

"He… took me out of my rhythm… and never allowed me back in," Herakles concluded.

"Precisely."

The young adult kept quiet for a while, as if silently asking his mentor – however removed – to continue.

"Not even your Pankration was enough. His barehanded style… was another thing I've never seen before. The balance between soft and hard, the decision-making between pursuing and retreating, and the powerful replicas of the weapon arts he wielded apart from that… Perhaps, he was from another land, one far from here…"

"You still haven't figured… out his background?" The long talk had begun to sap Herakles's focus, but he toughened himself to learn about the younger redhead. "You… are a terrible… bullshitter, Master…"

Chiron sighed in defeat. He really couldn't hide much from his best student, especially when Herakles addressed him in a manner he hadn't done so in a decade.

"His face was familiar, though I couldn't place it when we first met in his B-Rank exam. From rumors, though… I reckon he's Iolchos's missing prince."

The surprise almost allowed Herakles's upper torso rose sharply, before he was reminded of his injuries swiftly by the excruciating pain, now coursing throughout his body. "A-Ack! Guh… T-The one you're supposed to… t-take in?"

He was pushed gently back down by Chiron's wide palms, before the centaur replied, "Yes. When Aeson's descendant was slaughtered in that mad massacre by Pelias… Alcimede, his mother, had arranged for me to hide him."

"…what happened?"

"The boy never arrived," Chiron recounted. "His parents were detained in Iolchos, thus his delivery was entrusted to several servants. Clearly, they failed."

Taking a few deep breaths to calm down, Herakles asked, "So? He's now alive, suddenly such a master that even I couldn't lay a hand on him?"

The centaur shrugged. "Yes."

"Tsk…"

"There was another interesting piece of news." Chiron explained, "When this inclination arrived earlier this morning, I had my people check several things, mostly in Iolchos. His parents have been missing for several years already. Naturally, that animal, Pelias, hid the news to prevent an uproar, but their disappearance is confirmed."

"…what a filial child," Herakles grunted out, his annoyance at the defeat thinning slightly with admiration. "Any other things y-you figured out?"

Chiron shook his head. "Apart from the casual occasional lovers, there's nothing of note. His record is exemplary."

"_Too _clean."

"Perhaps."

With a cough, Chiron rose from his seat.

"This conversation can be continued another day. Just mull on things as you rest; I am sure you are already devising combat countermeasures against him, no?"

At Herakles's sheepish look, the brown-haired man laughed, patting his student's sculpted shoulder.

"By your leave."

"Thank you, Master."

* * *

**Glossary Update!**

* * *

**A**

**Authority**  
The Domains of Divine Spirits – or more commonly addressed as 'gods'. Unlike mortals, these Authorities were mostly inherited from birth, as nature and the universe decreed a Divine Spirit to be a representative of a particular concept. A Divine Spirit could hold more than one Authority at a time, and passing it on to another was difficult. It's easier to forcibly rob a Divine Spirit of its Authority than for it to gift it to someone else.

* * *

**D**

**Domain**  
The practice of specializing in a certain intangible concept, more prevalent in the Age of Gods compared to the modern day of Magecraft. Most similar in theory to a magus's Origin, but far more powerful, Domains could be determined from birth or as a blessing from a higher being. Mysteries performed under suitable Domains would gain a boost in power and efficiency.


	11. The Past

**Hi, everyone! A faster update this time, since I've been fired up recently. I'm glad you liked the previous chapter, since writing from the perspective of a well-known side-character was quite foreign to me. As you may know, HV-S01 was full of OCs, so it's somewhat easier for me. Also, I'd like to take this time to congratulate Ufotable on their work on the 2nd Heaven's Feel movie (which I've just recently watched), especially the desire and guts to stick with the original sex scenes, without replacing them with National Geographic fauna documentaries. Great job, guys!**

**This chapter should mark we're nearing the end of the first arc. It's admittedly mostly introductions and character setting, and the proper plot should kick on in a few chapters' time. Additionally, ****I've just realized this story has become the most well-received story in this site regarding a harem pairing between Atalanta, Medea, and Medusa. Quite proud of this fact, I must admit. I want to take this moment to thank the followers who rarely spoke up in the reviews, but help to popularize this story, as well as being the proof of my improvements as a writer. Of course, I couldn't also do it without you loyal reviewers who frequently discuss things with me ever since HV-S01. Grateful for your patronage!**

**Mailbag time!  
YuukiAsuna-chan: ****Unfortunately for you, it won't be in the next few chapters. Medusa's appearance will also reduce, as I'm moving on to a brand new scene, focused on SHIROU's past in this body.  
Lost Stardust1: I have to admit I'm not looking forward to writing a lemon about those two first characters!  
Stratos263: Oh, just you wait and see...  
**

**Note: Some of the Glossary Update entries below are copies of identical ones from HV-S01: Red Knight Redemption.**

* * *

I rarely dream.

According to science, dreams are simply the method my brain uses to reorganize things we experience in my life, both consciously and unconsciously. Little details I miss will be replayed over and over again if I instinctively recognize it as 'important', a thought which may not occur at the time I saw a particular scene. These images will be stitched together in the form of a continuously-moving film, which is called a 'dream'.

Naturally, among those from the Moonlit World, a dream is so much more.

There are those who's gifted with the ability to infer otherworldly secrets, which manifested during their sleep due to the immense burden it enacts on the body when awake. There are those whose inherent skill in reality manipulation find it easier to use their subconscious as a platform to build upon, literally weaponizing their dreamscapes.

And there are those like me, whose dreams are solely tools for self-reflection, and a safe space to converse with oneself and spiritually improve.

These distinctions also applied to nightmares, which is why I understand Medusa's pain so naturally. Her guilt is tormenting her inside, even now, and it manifests itself in the form of her latest victims: her sisters. The way she can come to terms with it solely depends on her; I can provide guidance, sure, but only she has the ability to do it as the Gorgon.

The strength of monsters can be both a curse and a blessing. She's wallowing in the former too much, thus I advise her to immerse herself in the latter. Whether she understands this implication fully or not… Well, we have time. She's still young. Hopefully, she can resolve the conflict within her to truly be saved.

[Hope]. Such a fleeting word, yet all-so-powerful, able to bind the hearts of the strongest beings in the universe. Its counterpart, [Despair], corrupts many and has destroyed even more, filling the lands where it permeates with regret and darkness.

The individual who holds these two attributes, surely, is the strongest in the world.

'_Pandora,'_ I call out in my head, reaffirming the potential final target Alaya has set me.

The original bearer of the sins in the world. Now, with respect to Aŋra Mainiiu, his Mystery and Conceptual Weight is inferior to Pandora, being younger and of mortal flesh. She, born from various divine mysteries crafted specifically for this purpose, instead of randomly selected as a sacrifice, is much, much stronger, to the point where comparing the two is more of a joke.

In my short years living in this era, most investigations regarding Pandora bore little fruit. I am making progress, but not nearly enough to satisfy me. The longer I spend in this endeavor, the less time I have to save those in need of saving. Even today, I still cannot determine whether Pandora is truly hostile to humanity or not, in the same manner Aŋra Mainiiu was in one of my original self's alternate futures.

Therefore, I rarely dream. The only times I do so is when I need some time alone to reflect, or when someone is contacting me through Unlimited Blade Works – either other Heroic Vessels or one of the souls residing inside my blades.

This time, it's the latter.

Looking at Scáthach's ethereal form, a pang of… not _guilt_, per se, but a lingering sense I could've performed something else back then strikes me. As we're now connected, unlike when she's my prisoner all those eons ago, she can feel this fleeting emotion just as clearly as myself.

"I have information regarding Tartarus and its inhabitants; though, it seems my appearance has bothered, you, Heroic Vessel," she kindly says, with a demeanor completely unlike how she acted when we first met. "Shall we table this discussion for another time?"

"No, it's simply my deficiencies, not yours. After all, I still need more experience to handle… well, _all of this_, really," I wave her off, indicating the tumultuous life a Heroic Vessel is expected to have. "I just remembered your alternate self, and it caused some internal conflict. Do speak your mind."

Gone was her arrogance when she still saw herself as the Queen of the Land of Shadows, or her suicidal tendencies deriving from her immortality. Right now, she's simply one of the souls presiding over Gáe Bolg, enabling me to draw more strength from the weapon compared to only possessing Cú Chulainn's spirit. Naturally, over time, constant contact with Unlimited Blade Works – practically my soul – enabled us to sympathize and empathize with each other, just like my relationship with the rest of the blades I own.

She shrugs, the action causing her long, lustrous black-violet hair to scatter around her shoulders. It's slightly darker than her still-living self in the future, Scáthach-Skaði, who has ascended further into divinity from what I heard from Akasha. Still, she's as beautiful as ever – if not for my relationship with the women I truly loved, perhaps she and I could have a more intimate relationship in the past.

"I heard that thought, Heroic Spirit," Cú Chulainn's cheeky voice resounds in both of our heads.

His spirit gives a thumbs up from his perch nearby, grinning predatorially.

The woman in front of me blushes lightly, though her ethereal form makes it more difficult for us two men to make it out clearly. Her body language is clearer, though, giving us a reason to smile wryly.

Coughing lightly, she continues, "The Titans imprisoned there are starting to stir from within their seals. The Protogenoi… well, at the very least, Thanatos, too, is feeling the unrest. The Olympians' time is near, it seems."

I nod. "How many camps are there? And who among those are pro-humanity?"

"It is unclear. However, Aether of [Light] and Eros of [Love] are neutral."

"I see," I reply. "I was hoping for more than that, but it's a solid place to start."

Suddenly, I am embraced from behind with strength nearing Herakles's own. Since the person responsible is a female with her associated soft body, it's a pleasant sensation – a far cry from the word I'd use when I wrestled with the demigod.

"Are you going to leave me out of the fun again?" Mordred's voice, husky and matured with age, whispers to my ear. "What a terrible husband you are; playing with other women when his wife is stuck in this place."

Reaching out behind me to ruffle her head, I smile. "I'll bring you out this time; promise."

"Liar."

Indeed, she – and everyone here – knows me too well.

Firstly, what weapon I bring out depends completely on the situation. There were missions where I didn't even summon a particular blade – and its associated spirits – at all. I know being here, fused with my soul, for millennia can be tortuously boring, but efficiency must be prioritized in my missions.

Second… Well, since I mastered [Possession], an advanced [Tracing] technique, I grow sympathetic with the weapons I summoned. Gone are the days where I, like EMIYA, use and discard them like trash. It's gotten to the point where I realized it's inhibiting me quite a bit, and how I grew to be similar to Gilgamesh's level of overprotection regarding my level.

Speaking of which… a hand pinches my side playfully.

"I heard that thought of yours, dearest one," Gilgamesh's crystal-like feminine voice, steeped in more Conceptual Weight than anyone here, accuses me.

"Hey! I'm here first! Shoo, shoo!" Mordred lightly swipes at the King of Heroes' offending arm.

The combination of both of their golden hair is both mystifying and dizzying, thus I skillfully extract myself from their embrace.

See? How can one not sympathize with these weapons if they have my abilities? They aren't simply weapons, either the original or perfect copies; they are _people_. Those with souls and personality, eternally bound with me when my relationship with them grows intimate enough for me to utilize the full might of their blade-like Noble Phantasms.

Especially if they contain the spirits of the women I love.

It's unfortunate they are all _very_ skilled, and the two manage to latch back onto my body without much of an issue. I try my hardest to ignore the silent snickers from both Scáthach and Cú Chulainn.

"While someone of your stature deserves a harem, so does the responsibility of pleasing _all_ of them increases, my dearest," Gilgamesh firmly states, her ruby-red eyes devoid of any smiles. "As I have generously accepted your… _generosity_ towards other women, do not forget who is first in your heart."

I have to suppress my chuckle at the incidental repeated words usage.

"That will be me, no?" Mordred glares back at the woman, before turning back to me with pleading eyes. They're silently saying, _"Please agree with me! Do it!"_

Instead of going along with their bickering, I opt to tell them the truth. "May I have some time with Lady Scáthach? I am sure she hasn't finished her report yet, no? This is quite important; besides, your spirit forms can't last long. You two should conserve it for when I need you."

A tiny smile graces the lips of Gilgamesh. "How crude. Only approaching a female when she has her uses to you, isn't it? …however, I shall allow it."

"Y-You're throwing me away after you u-used me…? Jerk…!" Mordred, too, playfully complains, but I already shift my attention to the former Queen of Shadows.

Thankfully, the two women are obedient – somewhat – and disappear back into their respective blades. Distance isn't an issue in Unlimited Blade Works, unless I want it to, since all the blades here are essentially occupying the same spot in my soul. Or, rather, my soul _are_ these blades – and the people I care and love construct and maintain it.

That is the whole point of Heroic Vessels. We are birthed from Alaya, yes, but we draw our strength from those we save and care about, not simply our talents or magical artifacts. Each of us has perfected our respective Reality Marbles through the experiences we gather in our soul, gaining power as more and more people surround us.

Gilgamesh's case is quite unique, as she was literally my first. The most powerful weapon inside me, apart from my Knight Arms, she manifested from my perfect recording of Ea – aided by data from the Akashic Records – and her willingness to place a shard of herself from the Throne of Heroes. With the associated massive Conceptual Weight, it drained her spirit whenever she chose to materialize without my consent.

Mordred, meanwhile, was quite new. Having been entrenched in this field of blades for less time, her Conceptual Weight was lacking compared to the 'older' Noble Phantasms I had, which meant Clarent's strength wasn't that far improved from its original state. Given time, I will have a greater understanding of the blade, infusing it with more power and probabilities. However, its relative age meant Mordred's spirit didn't have long to manifest itself without my consent.

As I think of that, Scáthach gives her final parting words, her report almost finished.

"The ones who I suspect the most are Nyx, the Protogenoi of [Night], and Ares, the Olympian of [War]. They are the most likely to be under Pandora's wraps," she finishes.

"What about Erebus and Poseidon? I had some encounters against them in the past; didn't seem like particularly pleasant people." Naturally, inside my Reality Marble, no one can divine my actions and words, not even Alaya, thus I speak freely. "For the latter… I still have some grievances for him to pay…"

Scáthach thinly smiles, though it immediately returns into her serious face. "Erebus of [Darkness], huh… I am not sure of him, since he recluses himself recently. For the deity of [Ocean]… Regarding his ploy against Medusa, I, too, still cannot confirm whether he did so due to his personal desire, or if he had truly fallen to the sins."

"I see. Thank you for the discussion. Keep monitoring Tartarus through your link, please."

"It will be long and inefficient, as you've witnessed. Is that alright?" Scáthach questions me.

Indeed, since she's no longer 'alive' in this era, her connection with the aspect of [Death] and [Underworld] is thinner. Therefore, this method of mine is mostly ineffective to gauge rapid changes in political scene.

"That is fine. As long as you are undetected, keep going."

A large, twin-headed spear – facing opposite directions, with a circular handle in the middle – suddenly rises from beneath the 'earth'.

"I shall help, as well," a petite blonde-haired woman manifested, one hand resting on the weapon one head taller than herself.

"Ereshkigal… is that alright?" I look on worryingly at the usually reserved goddess.

She nods, letting her bushy twin-tails sway back and forth. "This is the first time I can assist you in any form, after what you did in Mesopotamia for us, Enkidu. There are deities who aren't complete… a-asshole, no?" Stuttering slightly at the curse word, she resolutely looks at me. "Your guilt upon bringing down our pantheon is fascinating, but needless; those gods' time had passed, as you and Gilgamesh had correctly predicted. There is little need to be courteous towards me."

Facing the familiar face of Rin Tōsaka, a part of me simply cannot resist her words as 'Shirō Emiya'.

Bowing lightly, I say, "Then I am in your care. The two of you… be careful."

Their mastery over the aspect of [Death] is still intact, but their connections are less so. The thread connecting them to any pantheon's underworld is thin as spider's silk, requiring extremely delicate handling just to maintain it, much less keeping it from being discovered by Greece's current rulers of the domain, Hades and Thanatos. After all, they are not actually physically present; only their Noble Phantasms are, in the form of Kur Kigal Irkalla and Gáe Bolg through my powers as a Heroic Vessel.

Still, it's better than having to constantly maintain cordiality with those two unreasonable beings. They always are; in fact, these two women in front of me now are proof of that. Scáthach's flaws were clear, but Ereshkigal… safe to say, her 'common sense' was rather different than Gilgamesh's or my own towards humans, despite her kind nature. As they are still in power, Hades and Thanatos are individuals I need to treat with a 'need to know' basis.

With that sorted, I dismiss the mental discussion, and return to the waking world.

* * *

"You seem happy."

The masculine voice was the first thing Atalanta heard as she roused from her nap, eliciting a warm smile to her face. With eyes still closed, she snuggled closer to her soon-to-be husband, burying her nose into his chest and enjoying his particular musk.

There might be slight rubbing occurring, just to mark him as _hers_.

She recalled the little cute one – Medusa – was away for her own personal training, which she took advantage of and hoard Shirō to herself. Not that she blamed the little cute one for wanting to stick with him – after all, Atalanta had never chosen a less-than-perfect male for her mate. A strong alpha in all aspects, not merely personal strength, would be desired by most.

She pulled him into her couch inside this personal hamlet of hers in Arcadia's forests, before spoiling herself by jumping into his embrace and curling her entire body on his. Certainly, it's a side she'd never show anyone other than him, but they're the only two in this place right now.

A place which held terrible, traumatic memories, which were transformed into the sweetest ones with his presence in her life.

With her feline ears and tail let out, they inevitably tickled various places in Shirō's body, leading him to play with them gently to listen to her sweet purrs.

"…do you remember our first meeting, right here?" Atalanta softly asked, still being pampered by her fiancé's hands.

Shirō didn't immediately reply, taking a pause to consider his next words. "Are you… alright with talking about that?"

"I am an adult, now, and a strong one," she pointed out.

"Well, if you put it that way, then yes," Shirō sighed, resigned to the painful memories her words baited out. "Though it filled me with much regret, even until now. I… should've come sooner. You wouldn't be hurt if I did."

The fingers running through her golden-jade hair noticeably stiffened.

With a heavy tone, Shirō recounted, "What those two centaurs did to you… made me break many promises I made with myself. I preached forgiveness and mercy – to make my enemies work to atone themselves rather than execution – but I cannot find it in myself until now to forget them."

"Because you love me too much. I think I shall let that slide."

Finally cracking open her eyelids, she kissed him lightly on the chin. "Thank you for saving my life and purity, Lord Jason."

Straightening up, she continued, "When they… _held_ me, I… was _broken_. I resigned myself to a fate of their victims: raped, soiled… _trash_."

She interrupted Shirō's incoming protest with a finger, forcing herself to speak more, "It was the rule of the jungle: the strong preyed on the weak. All this time, I foolishly placed myself in the former category, never knowing fear… until _that moment_. When you came… I even disrespected you, thinking my goddess Artemis had sent and empowered you."

"I never felt that way, Atalanta. It's a logical line of thought, especially when they'd hurt you so badly." He consoled her, but she shook her head. It appeared she wanted to let the tragedy off her chest before she finally became one with the man she loved, so he paused to give her some room.

When he arrived a few years ago, her condition was almost fatal. Yes, she's an athletic woman, but her young body back then was smashed, battered, snapped, and pummeled in places no one could survive, purely because her assailants knew she could survive it. A particular blow to her abdomen even damaged her womb, requiring an immediate treatment from Avalon before it turned irreversible.

With blood flowing profusely from many places, along with limbs bent awkwardly, her legs were held apart, ready for the centaurs to rob her virgin flower.

He distinctly remembered that emotion, simply because he felt it so rarely. His emotional development as a Heroic Vessel was coming along well, but at that moment… his rage was at such a level he doubted it was possible for him to replicate right now. Not even the knowledge of Medusa's fate, back in Sarpedon, reached quite that intensity.

As to why he felt it so much… he's not sure. Back then, he barely knew her, as most of their interactions had been professional – through the Adventurers' Guild, as he was one of her mentors assigned for him to advance another rank. She was quiet, but forthright if needed be, and pushed her most affable teammates away from her since she was still a rookie.

Knowing her background, he was the only one who realized it's simply a difference in common sense: a beast's versus a human's. Their initial conversations were brief and curt, as he tried to play in her turf to get himself accepted – which worked wonders. That said, they could only be called close acquaintances, and barely friends.

But seeing her broken body lying there, about to be raped and impregnated and killed, he nearly lost control over his own Magecraft. Later on, he theorized it's due to the parts of 'Shirō Emiya' inside him, which contained the memories of his relationship with Sakura Matō, influencing him greatly with an unusually great burst of power. Perhaps it was the self which was willing to destroy the world in a fanatic attempt to save his lover, or perhaps it's the other one.

Either way, he swiftly annihilated the laughing centaur pair – yes, they were _laughing_ – and treated her.

She was unconscious by the time he finished cleaning her body to prepare for her treatment. Atalanta's naked body was exquisite, as if birthed from the best nature could give, but that was the farthest thing in his mind back then. Her conscience went in and out – a worrying sign of incoming shock – but fortunately he succeeded in stabilizing her multitude of injuries with Avalon and worked to slowly heal her.

When she came to the first time, she almost killed him on reflex. Fortunately, her body was still weak and aching, sending her half-jumping effort back down to her bed.

An understandable reaction. So did the resulting androphobia – a symptom she still showcased rarely until this day. She looked like a wounded lion, ready to bite off any hand reaching out to her, and her sharp glare was full of killing intent against everyone, distrusting even her visiting uncle who rushed in as soon as he heard the news.

The following years were _much_ easier.

She interrupted his thoughts, which contents were clear as day to her, with a chaste kiss on the lips.

"I love you, Jason of Iolchos."

When faced with _that_ expression, he couldn't help but instinctively replied, "And to you, too, Atalanta of Arcadia."

"So why are you making that face? Your presence, _here_, proved that I was saved."

He shrugged, an action which brushed his chest against hers. "I… desired for better. Always. Especially in moments like that… What's gone is gone, yes, but there is no denying I could've done better. Because-"

"Those two escaped your hunt, I know," she calmly retorted, to the pained look on Shirō's face. "I read the report in the Guild. Of how they had terrorized villages and countless women, and how a misjudgment in reading the evidence led you down a wrong path."

He stroked her cheek. "You should've hated me more for that. Many will."

"_That_ is where you are wrong, dear. You are a _hero_. Do not forget that."

"I know," he quietly said, clearly still unsatisfied with the discussion.

She adjusted her seating position once again, this time fully sitting straight on his lap. Instead of nestling in adorably, like how Medusa would, Atalanta was taller than the average woman, without even including the height of her feline ears. As a result, the hair at the back of her head was practically suffocating Shirō's face – not that he'd complain.

"You know… I have adored you for a long time. Even before… before the _thing_ happened."

"E-Eh?" Hearing this confession for the first time, the redhead was rather stumped. "R-Really?"

"Mn."

Looking at her, it was more akin to a large lioness lazing about in the prairie, instead of a cuddlesome small kitten. It's getting to the point where Shirō was getting mentally light-headed, and a normal person's thighs would've been numbed some time ago.

Not that anyone would make a comment regarding her weight. One, she was extremely fit, but all those slimness was tight, supple muscles; therefore, she was slightly heavier than how she looked. Two, well… those people would die on the spot. Not even Shirō would be spared from her wrath, though he's the most likely to survive. Perhaps that's the secret behind their lasting relationship?

"I… do not speak well. You know of this."

He silently nodded, the gesture clearly felt due to their close proximity with each other's head.

"All my childhood years… I had little contact with other people. Ancaeus, my uncle… he, too, was simply a mentor. I… He _cared _for me, loved me as a family." She tensed up slightly before continuing, "I could not do the same for him… because I know we are different. I am an animal, and he is human."

"I disagree," Shirō immediately cut. "However, I understand what you're trying to say, so please, go on."

"Thank you. Our first meeting, and the time we spent together in that internship… I _felt_ it. Something was there; I could not pinpoint it out, but… I thought, _'He is the one.'_ How did you do that, I wonder?" She tried to look up, but because of their relative parity in height, it only served to push her soft and squishy ears into his face. "Do you… know me beforehand, by any chance?"

"…yes."

The pause before his answer was the indication she needed. "How?"

"A vision."

"That is not a conclusive answer, my husband," she chided, though her tone was not really accusatory. "I… will accept whatever truth you speak of. Is that not what a wife should do? Is that not the sacrifice a marriage entails? Please."

"That is the truth, my dear wife," he chuckled, in a manner where even Atalanta's keen instincts were unable to determine whether it's honesty or falsehood. "I am patronized by Hera, and she hinted to me several people whose fates were murky or bleak; those who were undeserving of such cruel lives. You were one of them. Medusa, too."

"I see."

"…anything else you wish to speak of me in glowing terms? My ego is quite big, now that I know of your feelings at that time," he smiled, earning a small jab from her elbow to his side.

"Hmph. Perhaps, using that 'vision', you figured out how to converse with me properly, as equals, instead of seeing only one part of 'Atalanta' and reacting towards that. I am grateful for it, as I fell in love with you even more." Her earlier saccharine gestures died down, replaced by a more relaxed, casual stance instead. "If not… perhaps my father would-"

"I heard the story." He patted her head, earning a satisfied squirm from her. "Don't worry. He can't touch you, no matter what he tries."

"Are you going to declare my protection to the world, like in those epics?"

"Ahahaha… Isn't that too cliché? This is merely an objective opinion. You should believe it, too."

She rapidly spun her body, now directly hugging Shirō and pressing her face into his chest. "I know. Just… I wonder what will happen with Arcadia if I continue like this…"

Suddenly, she blushed fiercely as Shirō's arms tightened around her waist, as if trying to fuse her body into his.

"I have plans for that, though I cannot disclose it at this time. Do you… trust me?"

At that borderline-stupid question, she giggled girlishly. "Of course. Who will I trust, if not you?"

* * *

In an isolated compound somewhere in Thessaly, a pair of husband and wife were doing their daily household chores. It's early in the morning, which meant cooking and laundry were due. Because of their rather advanced age, they staved off general cleaning into the afternoon, when the heat lessened and the cooler wind blew.

Despite heralding from a royal and divine background, the sight of the two silently and efficiently working to provide for themselves was nothing out of the ordinary. Citizens like them populated the streets and housings of Greece, performing the exact same task and obligations, fated never to climb back up the social ladder for the rest of their lives.

Both Aeson and Alcimede were no longer young, and it's considered a blessing they weren't bundled together in the jammed outskirts of Iolchos, where part of the slums existed. Instead, their hard-working son managed to secure this peaceful plot of land closer to the heart of Magnesia, the province holding the city-state of Iolchos.

Initially, it was quite hard, as they'd lived their lives closer to the coast, instead of their current mountainous dwelling. The money and lifestyle changes, surprisingly, wasn't an issue; all that matters to them was whether their son could grow up and live safely and happily, even if they're bereft of the wealth they deserved.

Pelias had broken them. Killing all their children other than Jason, as well as their trusted servants and relatives, would do that to most people. The thought of revenge was culled very early; after all, what could they do to Pelias, now that he held the full power of a king? And not only that – a _good_ king, according to most people they spoke to.

If Aeson's brother was a tyrant and dictator, perhaps the flames of resentment would still exist within the two, but that wasn't the case. The man was capable – just very, _very_ ambitious and ruthless. As a matter of fact, Pelias had increased the size of Thessaly's influence to nearly twice its original size through shrewd alliances and deals.

Now with Thebes's backing, Thessaly's status as the province directly bordering Macedon was secured, no longer worried they'd be so easily invaded by the northerners. Not that wars happened frequently in these days – even the most aggressive Sparta calmed down considerably recently, focusing on internal rebuilding and management, now that a somewhat stable economic climate had arrived.

These days, the husband and wife lived simply as retired parents, with their only entertainment being the news of their sole living son's achievements.

Naturally, they were ecstatic with everything Jason had done, under various pseudonyms before his real identity became public knowledge. He was always a strangely mature child, even when he was still a toddler.

Back then, Pelias's actions were a living nightmare for them. Their children, those birthed by Alcimede with great labor and love, were slain. What consolation they could have was only the fact it happened painlessly, without torture, as Pelias required swift actions to avoid creating a larger-than-necessary turmoil. The two hid Jason as best they could, even sending him to Chiron for protection…

…but news of their only child never came. They couldn't contact the wise centaur out of fear of being discovered by Pelias, so they silently endured their house arrest, worrying of Jason to the point of nearly killing themselves with stress.

There was no news of their child's death. That was the only hope they clung on to; thus, they tried their best to be on the lookout for further news, even if it would end in a foolish despair later.

When Jason appeared in their front door after ten long, hard years, they wept uncontrollably as they embraced him. They didn't even remember what they said back then, only the intense happiness and relief to see him just fine.

Naturally, after they calmed down, they inquired how he lived and grew up all this time, but they only received ordinary answers. Like how he became preferential to certain food or beverages, his hobbies, his daily life, etc. However, the information he left out was the fate of those who accompanied him during his departure as a baby, and the person responsible for rearing him to this day.

In their happiness, they missed this particular point, and proceeded to pamper their son like never before with the meager resources they had.

He lived with them since that day, and they immediately noticed several curious things about him.

Of how he's extremely proficient at housework, especially cooking. Of how his body was far more athletic and well-built than kids his age – Aeson even commented he's only seen that type of unhealthy growth in child laborers and slaves, though he only shared that thought with his wife. Of how he's incredibly skilled in Magecraft – in this Age of Gods, it's not a particularly special skill; but Jason's talent outshone those the two had seen in their time as rulers of Thessaly.

But their son was _back_. That's all that matters.

That was… until he decided to leave home again three years later.

He explained his goals well: he would become an adventurer. It's an efficient source of income and fame, both of which they sorely needed. This house arrest of them – still within spitting distance of Iolchos's royal compound – lacked nothing, but it's not as if they're bathing in luxury, either. Pelias treated them the same way he treated his political prisoners: absolute bare-boned necessity, nothing more.

At the same time, their protective instinct as a parent flagged up several issues with Jason's idea. Yes, being an adventurer was a good prospect, especially with a child of his status: no lineage, no history. Most other jobs were full of those taking advantage of nepotism, instead of being a meritocracy. An adventurer relied solely on the latter, solely due to one thing: those who relied on the former tended to die _a lot_ earlier, leaving only the useful ones behind.

But even so, there were many cases of decent, honest people who died before their time, not because they're careless, but simply because fate deemed it so. How could one explain bad luck? People just accepted it and move on.

As Jason's parents, however, how could they just accept that? Their thirteen-year-old son would be thrown into that dangerous pit, putting his life on the line?

The thought that Jason would probably start doing easy E-Ranked quests was lost on them, such was their paranoia towards their only son's safety.

Not even Alcimede's weeping the day he departed, hugging his knees and begging him to reconsider, could change Jason's mind. His calm, mature smile was the exact same when he arrived at this house three years ago.

"_I'll be gone for a week, at most, Mother. Don't worry about me, okay? Just eat the menu I told you, and stay healthy." His tone was casual, but the steel behind it reminded Aeson of veteran soldiers going to the battlefield. "And Father, too; don't overwork yourself, alright? I'll bring home some money."_

Times passed quickly, and Jason never reneged on his promises.

It was faster than a blur; one moment, they're praying fervently to the goddess Hera for their child's safety, and the next, they're moving house to their current address, as Jason swiftly moved up the ranks, and in turn, his pay increased considerably as well.

However, the moment they realized, _"Ah, our son has grown up!"_ was the first time he brought his girlfriend home.

She was a fierce beauty, that's for sure. Strands of gold and jade lustrously splayed over her shoulders and back, with sharp eyes and stern expression. Oh, she was polite and amicable enough – but curt and economical with words, as well as brutally honest. It was refreshing to see their usually mature son sweat at her rather crude manners, nervously monitoring her interactions with his parents.

After all this time, they actually knew very little of their son. Yes, they knew his habits, his usual tone, and his way of thinking – but his real intentions? It could be said they're rather estranged instead.

The 10-year-old child who arrived at their doors so many years ago was exceedingly calm, with no trace of the tragedy which surely must've happened to his handlers back when he was a baby. He was polite – sometimes painfully formal and distant – and behaved himself with an air of a young man far older than his age.

It worried Aeson, because it usually pointed to one thing: a traumatic experience had occurred to Jason, and it shaped him to be the boy he was.

Around the house, he was quiet, unlike the children of their fellow political prisoners who often threw tantrums noisily. It was almost to the point of being eerie, as he was obedient and kind – perhaps _too_ perfect to be normal.

The couple's private discussion regarding his strange behavior somewhat alleviate their worry of the cause. Should they pry deeper and ask? Jason would answer as best he could, as he always did, but what if their inquisitive behavior ended up distancing them from each other? Their son had come home; they certainly didn't want to give him any excuse to leave.

He was even more remarkable as Aeson and Alcimede watched him grew in front of their eyes. It was mostly physical growth; his muscular body lengthened and widened almost on a day-to-day basis, and soon was larger than his father when he was 15. They saw him delve into his hobbies in housework, blacksmithing, and martial arts – though they rarely saw the latter, as Jason chose to utilize the Guild's training area more and more often as he grew older.

The day when they moved house, too, was one of the landmark moments in their life. Pelias couldn't do anything; Jason's status as an adventurer meant he was under indirect protection of Chiron, and forcing the issue in regards to his parents' political stature could be bad if known publicly. The matter became moot when Jason reached A-Rank, equal in _de facto_ social rank as a high noble.

He never said it, but the gesture was clear. _"Uncle will never bother you anymore."_

Words couldn't explain how proud they were of their own son. If his siblings were still alive, they would feel the same, surely.

When Jason – under the pseudonym Σείριος – became an S-Ranker, a hope blossomed in Aeson's heart.

Maybe – just maybe – his son could still succeed the throne.

As soon as that thought surfaced, he immediately threw it away. His son was clearly happy the way he was now; why should Aeson push him into the political cesspool where the usual reward of a job well done was a knife in the back? It's just more trouble than its worth. Their subdued son never talked about it – their previous life – thus the couple decided against bringing it up.

They retained their lives, and was given the chance to see their son mature into a successful individual. That was enough of a reward; there's no need to be greedy and regrow the seeds of revenge.

However, even if they decided to do so, would Pelias let him go? Surely, now that Jason's real identity had become public knowledge, the ambitious king would only see him as a potential usurper? Regardless of Jason's popularity, all it took was a small chance – as it always was – and his life would be forfeit.

Fortunately, the couple hadn't heard of any significant incidents which could be attributed to this cause. At the very least, Pelias seemed to respect the distance between them: one of a king and an adventurer. That's all – though Aeson had little doubt of what his brother was thinking of his son.

Their daily life wasn't disturbed in the slightest – one which Alcimede was grateful for her son. His celebrity status now meant he was rarely home, but other A-Rankers often had trouble separating their admirers from their private lives. She had heard of various horror stories; for example, a particular fanatic breaking into their idol's house for no particular reason.

What a good son Jason was. It appeared there was indeed a blessing hidden in every tragedy.

Therefore, they were quite surprised when a messenger suddenly appeared before their front gate, politely knocking on the metal handle to garner their attention.

"Express mail."

"A-Ah! Yes, I'm coming!" Alcimede wiped her hands on her crude apron – the one thing she didn't let her son buy a newer one – and ran to receive the letter.

Its contents caused the couple to leap in joy, even before the messenger had walked off.

_Getting married soon!  
Location: Arcadia  
I'll pick you two up._

_\- Love,  
Your son_

* * *

**Glossary Update!**

* * *

**P**

**Possession**  
A Magecraft inspired by a specific aria of the Heroic Vessel SHIROU's Tracing. It partially summons the spirit of the owner of a weapon, giving SHIROU access to skills and abilities he previously lacked due to mismatching physical and spiritual requirements. Care must be exercised before using this Magecraft, lest the spirit will overcome a weakened self.

**Pure Eyes of Mystic Perception**

A mutation in the Magic Circuits around the eyes, this ability allows the user to perceive the workings of the World around them. How much the user sees vary according to his or her skills and experience, as this type of Pure Eyes is a rare, evolving one. There are a number of permutations regarding the development of this Pure Eyes, some are listed below.

\- Material: includes the physical changes exerted to the World, for example, the laws of physics, chemistry, and biology

\- Ethereal: includes the distortion of phenomena caused by Magecraft or Magic

\- Spatial: includes the inner workings and relationship between all forces in the World and the rest of the universe, for example, Ultimate Ones, Gods, and Ether Liners

Note: usage and effects will differ from user to user, depending on personal experiences and preferences.


	12. Family Bonding

**Hey, everyone! Welcome to the latest chapter! Now, I know last chapter didn't really have much action going in it, focusing instead on some background explanation and stories, but I feel it's a necessary break in the story to have that part in. Besides, as I mentioned previously, it's nearing the end of this ark, so I want to set up the next one with some exposition. Hopefully this chapter will do just as good a job as its predecessors in terms of creating a concise step towards the end.**

**Now, for the mailbag:  
Lost Stardust1: ****Velber won't appear in this story. The Ulster Cycle will be included in the HV-S01 future re-write, as well as its current form; not in this one.  
RedDragonRevan: ****I'm certainly interested, though it's not likely straight after this story. HV-S03 won't be set in the Norse mythology, as well as the re-write of HV-S01 I'm planning for quite some time. So I think I'll work on those two projects first, as well as the ones related to the other Heroic Vessels. I think 3 stories will be enough (for now) to tell the story of SHIROU; I want to set the table for the others. I think those 'others' will be the one taking on the Norse mythology, taking cues from other medias too, not just TYPE-MOON.  
AznPuffyHair: ****The answer to your first paragraph is littered about in HV-S01. I was being deliberately vague in that story regarding Gilgamesh, because I prefer it to be that way for now. Some parts of UBW in this series were also explained in that story; check out the existing Glossary for further details. Regarding your other wishes, you'll just have to wait and see! Some of your predictions are spot on, at least...  
Stratos263: ****Unfortunately, as you've seen in the chapter, they died very quickly indeed.  
Mythic Imagination: ****Thank you for the review, as well as your previous ones. You've been nothing but supportive so far. I personally am not familiar with the Halo franchise, so I can't comment on the similarity you pointed out. I think it's from how TYPE-MOON was influenced by it and some other franchises first, before we fans make our own interpretation of the holes in the universe. Personally, I always take that attribute from Miyazaki's video games lore story-telling.**

**A genuine question: Does anyone know where I can get English translations of the FGO mangas (other than the Learning with Manga! ones)? It's very slow to update in the places I usually read them, and so far as I know, there's no official English publication we can buy, right? PM me if you do know where I can find them, as I impatiently wait for Heaven's Feel III...**

**Enjoy! Don't forget to let me know what you think... Oh, welcome to the new followers as well!**

* * *

The climate in Arcadia's forest was completely different from the coastal Sarpedon. Yes, said island did have a thick vegetation, but they're mostly hardy palm families which were resistant to arid soil and salty condition – both the air and inland water was filled with the scent from the sea.

Naturally, Medusa had little problem surviving off Sarpedon's natural bounties. Her sisters' and her stomach could process impure fresh water just fine, even if it's slightly salty, and the area was full of delicious seafood and mundane frigate birds to eat. It's important to have foodstuff which were easy to prepare and cook, since both Stheno and Euryale were both pitifully useless in the kitchen – thus the task fell to Medusa.

She learnt through instinct, and even Shirō was pleasantly surprised at how much she knew. For her, trial and error was acceptable, since the combination of her monstrous and divine blood made her immune to general poisoning of any kind. Her sisters possessed similar resistance, albeit weaker – and the three spent decades living peacefully like that, and dinner was filled with their usual banter of Medusa being constantly teased.

Remembering those scenes almost made her eyes water, but Medusa wiped them with her oversized sleeves – purchased and forcefully worn onto her by Atalanta, predictably – as she studied the flora and fauna around her.

For one, the air was much more humid, with a tang of sharp ice and metal. She tried the spring water gleefully, which turned out to be the best water she's ever tasted – such was its purity. The sensation of cold freshness flowing down her throat was fantastic, second only to drinking Shirō's blood.

'_I wonder… How does Miss Atalanta taste like? Is she… gamey?'_ She silently pondered with a child's innocence. _'Maybe I need to cook the blood a bit to get rid of the smell…'_

It was quite late into the day, and as the tall trees hid the sunset much earlier, the lighting where she stood was more akin to dusk than an afternoon sunshine.

She skipped and hopped over various fallen branches and other shrubberies, her long braid flailing behind her like a prehensile tail. Because of her diminutive size, she had difficulty in seeing too far and wide in the forest, and even climbing onto some higher branches didn't help. Her stubby hands and feet were unlike Atalanta's chiseled and taut limbs, almost causing her to fall over her face several times.

Fortunately, her physical abilities and reactions were good enough to avoid that. No matter how she disliked being used as a dress-up doll by the Arcadian princess, she could recognize how expensive this set of clothes were. Unlike her previously simple robes – provided by Shirō from piecing together whatever materials they had at hand – this was much more luxurious and frilly.

The drab black and white accents – while functional – were deemed too 'wasteful' by Atalanta's standards, and they were swiftly exchanged with a bright purple dress-robe with black laces. The tone matched the color of her hair precisely – probably modified through Magecraft – and the lower hem of the skirt, while loose and airy, only reached to her knees, allowing some semblance of freedom.

The process of wearing this clothes was a nightmare, though, and one Medusa wasn't keen on revisiting.

The look on Atalanta's eyes at that time… was genuinely _scary_. As if Medusa was a delicious, fatty piece of meat in front of a starving lion.

Though she disliked being apart from Shirō, she just couldn't stay another moment under Atalanta's grasp. The older girl was ultimately a good person – her natural instinct as a [Monster] guaranteed that – but the way she expressed her affection was quite… _unique_.

Therefore, she opted to take some time away, now they'd safely arrived in Arcadia for the wedding ceremony, and play in the woods outside Atalanta's house.

The other thing which kept tripping her up in her walk was the unusually interesting sight among the trees.

The tree barks were torn apart in various places, obviously not in a natural manner. There were clean cuts, blunt-force trauma, tidy holes – some punching through, some not – nicks, warps, and so on, as if each tree was subjected to a different set of torture session. Those which weren't marred were either growing in a strange direction, such as near-horizontally after several feet of initial trunk, or remained only stumps, with small shoots growing out of them.

It only gave off a mystical aura, rather than an oppressing one, which in itself was already strange. She had heard of this phenomenon before, from the remains of her 'preys' – or their desperate pleading before being consumed – but they're often found in spiritually negative areas, such as haunted plains or [Chaos]-affiliated divine lands.

It's something she didn't really discuss with Shirō, because there's parts of her she wasn't ready to disclose yet. Her _sensitivity_ to everything happening was exceedingly high, to the point where it almost hurt every day in her life, prior to her 'mother' partially sealing her abilities back then to allow her a more normal life.

The red letters on her forehead wasn't only for containing Cybele. Its power extended to the [Monster] inside her, the Gorgon, and though she'd made progress in understanding that side of her lately, she still wasn't comfortable handling its strength, no matter how seductive it was most of the time.

Still, her senses were still sharp enough to simulate what actually happened here, in a manner Shirō had taught her casually.

Inductive reasoning. That's how she should fight, now that most of her physical advantages were gone. Take whatever cues in front of her from all her senses, and combine them into one large, complete picture. Without even relying on her normal eyes or her Mystic Eyes – _kill the enemy_.

Even if it was Medusa herself.

She traced her fingers along several of these deformations – those she could reach with her petite height, anyway. There's no need to fear for accidental lacerations or animal bites, since her skin was tougher than those 'mundane' objects. Instead, her steps began to change as she immersed herself in the simulation.

The forests of Arcadia weren't magical, like those kept in certain places around Colchis. However, they were filled by Atalanta's magic energy, forming a pseudo-Bounded Field where any prey who stepped inside would be hunted down with great efficiency. That was the gift of Artemis to repay her most loyal and skilled priestess – Atalanta's Domain, [Hunt].

Medusa, too, had her own, owing to Gorgon, but she's currently not confident in utilizing that particular Domain. Perhaps she could ask others to help her learn it?

Anyway, there's plenty of knowledge and experience to unearth from these battle scars. Yes, it might not look like it at first glance, but these markings were from a prolonged duel between two skilled warriors, most likely Shirō and Atalanta. Given their feelings for each other, Medusa assumed they were sparring intensely, and this much was expected given their power levels.

Oh, even without relying on her eyes, she could _see _so clearly now.

Atalanta's silent, deadly prowl, eager to spring into action once she felt her prey was vulnerable. Shirō's calm confidence, like an invincible fortress lined equally with both fortifications and traps. Atalanta's mastery of the bow and arrow, and the movement techniques required to maximize them. Shirō's variety of offensive and defensive means, leaving no discernible opening for anyone to strike.

If she faced against both of them, in her current form or as Gorgon, could she win?

'_No, that's ridiculous!'_

First of all, the reason was simple: she was too short. No matter how tricky or powerful her attacks were, the fact she required two long steps to match their normal pace was already a considerable disadvantage. Normally, she liked her size, because she could snuggle and hug into both of their bosoms comfortably, but certainly not in combat.

Second, she was still too immature and inexperienced. No amount of instinctive reflex would be able to contend with a multilayered attack – the set-up before the decisive blow, the patience, the intricate dance to counter – and so many other aspects, even if she embraced and transformed into her Gorgon side.

The various pinpoint holes were certainly from Atalanta's arrow – but interestingly, all of them were of varying sizes and impact marks, as if no one strike was the same. Some of them were deep, almost identical in depth with a stabbing lance; others were barely nicks, but widespread, as if the arrowhead splintered into multiple objects at the same time. There's even some elemental damage mixed in: scorch marks, frosted bits, wind cleavage, and others.

Shirō's presence – or where Medusa presumed he was – was more localized.

There was a clearing nearby, where soft grass now blanketing the area, perfect for napping. However, there's several outcrops the green field couldn't hide, and one in particular was an indentation about half a foot deep, like something heavy – or _someone_ – was placed here for a long period of time or created it with overwhelming force.

The long gash marks were long overgrown, but the undulations made by it could still be felt – as she tripped over yet another bump. The ground was almost _plowed_ into straight, unnatural geometric shapes, as if giant blades overturned it by furiously and randomly hacking into it. In fact, the rather long grass made sensing the environment rather tricky; she needed to use her feet's sense of touch, rather than sight.

There's several tree stumps dotting the trees around the clearing. It's rather jarring to see gaps among the evergreen wall, but they're there. The stumps were cut smoothly, without resistance – a powerful blade's mark, perhaps enchanted. Or a [Wind]-based Magecraft? Either way, the wielder was of considerable skill and strength.

The battle scars weren't continuous, either. There's indications they fought at several different places at different times, though Medusa didn't really want to venture too far from the hut where Atalanta and Shirō were undoubtedly doing their 'cuddly-cuddly' like a few days ago.

From what she gathered, this wasn't simply a place to live – but also to train. It's highly likely Atalanta was mentored by Shirō right here. Rather harshly, she might add, but training was training.

'_Can I be as strong as her?'_ She mulled for various reasons.

She must be strong, not to vanquish her nightmares, but to embrace them, like Shirō taught her to. _"It'll be hard,"_ she remembered him saying, _"but to move forward, this is the challenge you now have."_ To hold her sisters once again in her arms, reality or illusion be damned.

She must be strong, so Shirō would show the same affection towards her as he did to Atalanta. Oh, she saw how elated the older girl was whenever he was close – could she attain that kind of happiness? That smile, which looked like there was nothing wrong in the world?

Was it a sin… if she was to copy it? To fake it?

Her tiny hands balled up tight, filled with a myriad of emotions.

\- Hoot. Hoot. Hoot.

"M-Mother!" Medusa's tiny body jumped in excitement as a large, plump white owl landed on her outstretched arm.

Its beak didn't move, but a female voice echoed inside Medusa's head – a very familiar, warm one. [How do you do, my daughter?]

She smiled. "Very well! Everyone here's so nice to me…!"

The white owl craned its neck flexibly. Naturally, a snow-like feather was completely foreign to these parts, especially with Arcadia's near-tropical climate. It's just one indication on the owl's true divine nature – the other was the unmistakably divine aura coating it as it flew.

Its fluffy head nuzzled into Medusa's soft cheeks, eliciting several giggles from her.

[I am relieved,] the ethereal voice said. [I have made some progress on our case. Please be patient.]

"Umu! No problem!"

The owl couldn't emote that well, but Medusa felt there's a hint of a motherly smile displayed on its face.

[In any case, why are you here alone? Where is Sir Seirios?] It questioned.

"Oh, I am studying the battle scars in this forest. Their movements are incredible, Mother! Look!"

She grabbed the plump owl gently and turned it around several times, even though the bird could rotate its neck just fine to get the same result. Naturally, she didn't know this, and continued explaining enthusiastically.

"See; this was where he likely used a hammer to launch himself. And here, too – a mark from a chain, creating a great platform to move around among the trees." She spoke in a boastful, childish tone alien to Athena, and her giddiness was palpable even through the owl's senses. "I have several new weapons to try, too, so I'll try to learn as much as possible to get stronger! I may be able to help you, Mother!"

The voice chuckled. [Fufufu… If that is what you desire, then I shall wait for you. Do not take long, Medusa.]

"Umu!"

Unlike latter eras, Greeks now were starting to refocus on military aspects of their lives, after spending a significant chunk of it on arts, philosophy, and science. It never truly left, just put to the sidelines – until Sparta and Macedon began rearranging their standing armies, putting the other provinces and city-state on high alert.

It's fortunate there's still several cases of invasions – mostly minor skirmishes – from other cultures to force the Greeks to stay together. Having learnt from the legends of the deities, from the Protogenoi to the current Olympians, they knew better to initiate an infight amidst high international tension.

Athens and Iolchos contributed greatly to recent advancements in naval warfare, while Sparta and Macedon focused more on melee combat. There's rumors several scholars were researching true ranged combat, and mass mobilization of magi in war, but political hurdles complicated and slowed that part of military improvements.

Anyway, as the Goddess of [War], why should Athena coddle her daughter, simply because she's put in danger before? The logic in her dictated Medusa must be made stronger, both physically and mentally, to face against the forces behind the trigger of her transformation. That's not even mentioning the need to master her Gorgon form – thus Athena's decision to let Sir Seirios to take care of her.

There's no better example than an S-Ranked adventurer to learn from. Yes, perhaps if viewed in that manner, then Herakles might be the worst among the three in terms of mentoring, but even he was no slouch. Besides, it allowed Athena to focus solely on building a case around Poseidon, which was going well.

_Too well_, if she could share her worries. But Medusa wasn't the appropriate person to vent it into.

[I am grateful. Then, where is Sir Seirios? I am aware you have met up with Artemis's priestess, Atalanta, so… There are two people who are supposed to be around you, no?]

"Ah, they're probably doing 'huggie-huggie' again," Medusa unhesitatingly said.

[P-Pardon?] Thinking she heard it wrong, Athena asked Medusa to repeat what she just said.

"Yeah, 'huggie-huggie'! We take off our clothes and cuddle-cuddle together! It's fun and feels good!" The little girl innocently beamed to the owl's face, which was twitching dangerously.

[You… have done so…?] The voice's tone got a lot darker, yet its nuance flew right over Medusa's head.

"Yes! Shirō's hands and lips feel so goooooodddddddddddd…" She slurred slightly, blushing in remembrance.

However, Athena had long snapped.

[What.]

* * *

"Sister, a letter has arrived."

Hearing her little sister's stern tone, Hippolyta roused from her diligent paperwork.

It might be odd, seeing the Queen of Amazons – renowned for their martial prowess – to be so studious and adept at administrative work, but that was exactly why Hippolyta was chosen as the next ruler instead of Penthesilea. That's not to say the older sister was inept physically; the siblings were pretty much equal, which meant Hippolyta's greater wisdom gave her the edge on the decision.

The Amazons, much as they lauded physical might, weren't the 'savages' popular rumor suggested, mostly due to their bloodline, stemming from Ares. Their insular nature and matriarchal culture clashed directly with most Greek philosophy, who viewed them as inferior intellectually and culturally. Recent efforts had started to amend this view, though not as fast as Hippolyta would've liked.

After all, like most civilizations, they weren't independently stable, requiring trade to earn the supplies they needed for their daily lives. It's from these merchants – and the concerted effort of several famous figures – that the Amazons' culture began to spread outside their homeland, chiefly the training method for female soldiers and martial artists.

Taking the letter from Penthesilea's hands, Hippolyta joked, "Who dares to make you a messenger, Sister? I think I must demote such a person."

Her stoic little sister's face cracked a smile – a feat which earned Hippolyta's full attention.

Most Amazons disliked showcasing their emotions or flaunting their beauty to others, solely because it made others view them less as a warrior, and more like the normal women they mistreated almost every time. Yes, things were changing, but the number of females being made a currency – to pay debts, as sacrifices, or prize of battle – was still far too high.

The Amazons recently expanded their reaches, ransacking several main (illegal) trading hubs and liberating the mistreated people there. Initially, they only wished to help the women, but after seeing the horrible conditions those slaves lived in, their belly was stoked and ended up saving everyone.

Plus, it gave them a somewhat-steady supply of males, for mating and working purposes. It's not viable for a country to be filled solely with women, after all.

However, they were strict in their selection. Everyone in Amazons must contribute to their society, regardless of their status and bloodline – either as soldiers, workers, artisans, caretakers, and so many more. Those unable – or worse, unwilling – to do so were deported to other places immediately.

Such was the rule of the land here.

As the queen, Hippolyta, too, must be careful regarding the men around her. Not that any one of them was capable of defeating her in all aspects of combat – Herakles had attested to that, in their fated duel which was interrupted at the end by Jason. She suspected the former sustained some injuries prior to dueling her in that friendly challenge, but a victory was a victory if she didn't use any unscrupulous means.

However, Jason seemed to be a delicious fruit to pick among those available to her.

At first, he was rather averse to her advances. Not in a shy way, though – she could tell he's experienced with women. What she could hypothesize was she resembled a person who made him uncomfortable in the past, perhaps a former lover or enemy. Either of those two usually left a lasting impact in a man's mind.

However, after several days' worth of partying and securing Herakles's drunken stupor somewhere else, she struck when Jason's guard was down, pinning him on the bed. She imagined she was making an obscene face, unseemly for a ruler, but she later dismissed it as a drunken haze.

As she elegantly opened the letter, she unconsciously began to rub her stomach with another hand – right above her womb, rendered infertile after that fateful night.

Offhandedly, she asked Penthesilea, "How is Molpadia's training going?"

"She was talented. Perhaps even more so than you or I," the white-haired Amazon said, furrowing her brows when she saw her sister's expression contort into something… unpleasant. "Is there something wrong?"

Hippolyta wordlessly handed over the letter, her eyes cold and blank.

The letter was clearly magical, sealed with Magecraft foreign to both royal sisters' knowledge. Amazons rarely practiced the arcane arts, borrowing the strength of the World to enhance their physical attributes instead. Any mystical offensive or defensive arts were simply manifestations of that power; both Hippolyta and Penthesilea lacked any true Magic Circuits. Still, in order to combat those able in Magecraft, they studied it fervently.

It's truly unfortunate they descended from Ares, and inheriting his ineptitude for complex Magecraft, while his twin, Athena, was a celebrated teacher and mentor for it. Naturally, it meant there was no temple for Hecate, the Goddess of [Magic], anywhere in near the vicinity of Amazon, despite Magecraft not being banned or discouraged.

It's simply their way of life for all this time, which molded their culture without real Magecraft.

"…marriage?" Penthesilea murmured, twiddling her pristine white sidebangs. Compared to her older sister, her hair was much more voluminous, colored the opposite manner of Hippolyta's black hair. "Are you… attending? With Molpadia?"

Her sister's earlier casual tone had dissipated, replaced by steely resolution.

"Of course. Why wouldn't Lord Jason want to meet his own daughter?"

* * *

Inside Pandora's prison, normally, it was eerily quiet. Not only because its true master physically was in a condition where she couldn't utter a sound, but also the lack of casual joviality between her 'children' – the five tomes. They're completely dedicated to fulfilling their mission, as assigned to them during their creation by Pandora; thus, small talk was unnecessary for beings without a mortal heart like them.

One of them, though, was crafted specifically with the ability to blend in with humans, so it had more propensity for casual conversations.

That fact caused Goetia to twitch its brows near-imperceptibly. "Notoria, what are you doing?"

Still, they _were_ siblings, no matter how dysfunctional. His tone wasn't exactly accusing, but of pure curiosity; it's solely its demonic voice which made the question sharper than it should.

Compared to the clearly inhuman Goetia, with disproportionately thick arms, skeleton-like face, and elegant antlers, Notoria was far closer to what a human should look like, despite the clear contradiction of its looks – indicating its monstrous origin.

It – no, _her_ – smiled bewitchingly. It wasn't on purpose, but she naturally exuded an atmosphere similar to Aphrodite's normal charm, only infinitely more devilish and mischievous. Her face contained unbridled lust and seduction, but her body was covered by a form-hiding thick black dress. Even her hair was hidden by a white head scarf.

It was the tease – of her beautiful face, yet her body was unknown. Should men approach her judging only from her face? She could have an absolutely curvaceous figure, or a flat one, or a monstrous one – the gamble, the exhilaration, all of it was part of her charm. The more she hid, the more her victims would desire her.

Continuing from her impish grin, she said, "There's a potential gap we can use against Alaya. I am currently monitoring it; so don't you come over here and disturb me."

Goetia shrugged. As long as she continued to be loyal to their master and creator, and did things beneficial with their cause, it would leave her to her own devices.

However, it _did_ have the responsibility of explaining it to others who might wish to hear what Notoria was planning.

"Do enlighten me of the details."

The demon-in-woman-form stretched from her perch, and the lines of her body jiggled this way and that faintly under all those clothes, teasingly mysterious. "Are you familiar with a Heroic Vessel's bloodline? Of how Alaya planned to use it to select the next candidates and also as bodies for them to inhabit? Perhaps… we can use this one."

"Hmm…"

"See? You're not even interested in this kind of thing. Subterfuge, subterfuge – we can't just kill everyone in sight, Goetia," she explained, wagging her index finger around. "Besides, don't you have several gods to entertain? Go waste your energy on them."

Goetia grunted. She's not really wrong, though her words did incite several negative emotions from him. Still, those died down soon enough; it couldn't act on impulses, lest their creator's plans go awry.

"What about you? How has the assimilation gone?"

Notoria patted her stomach at that question. "Oh, Eros is loving it in me, make no mistake."

"I highly doubt that is his precise words."

"Spoilsport." She stuck out her tongue on him – slightly longer than humans, but enough to entice a male's member into full mast, brimming with fantasy. Shedding the pretentiousness of this conversation, she seriously asked, "Other than Zeus, who else is obedient to Mistress Pandora? Those you controlled through your [Fear], I mean."

"I thought we are on a strictly need-to-know basis, until either one of us has completed our conquest? Do not tempt me with foolish question, no matter how valid, Notoria."

"Boo… And here I am, getting serious. Why do you keep on bullying me, the youngest, o' older sibling of mine?"

To that inquiry, Goetia simply ignored her, preferring to keep its thoughts to itself.

Notoria hummed at the act, before mimicking it and went through the minutia of her plans.

This era of Greece was called the 'Age of Heroes', for a good reason. As gods proliferate with humans, the chance of producing a demigod at least as powerful as their parents increased. This, in turn, shifted the common folks' attention away from the patron gods towards the real, flesh-and-blood hero they could see and meet every day, weakening the gods' grip on their Authorities, as they depended on the worship and association the common folks placed on pertaining attributes.

As they grew feebler, the more room the five tomes of Pandora could have. This was apparent in the speed Notoria could ambush, devour, and assimilate Eros, whose Authority, [Lust], was the most compatible with her. Initially, the male Protogenoi had far superior Conceptual Weight than Notoria, who was, in the end, only a part of Pandora.

However, as his Authority overlapped more and more with Aphrodite, his distant niece, however incidentally, he grew weak enough to fall to Notoria's advances, before being taken into her body. It's difficult, if not nigh-on-impossible to destroy his Divine Graph, so Notoria simply chose to incorporate him into a part of herself.

She was a tome, first and foremost, after all.

Now, it was time to impart her 'teachings' to a particular person.

Pandora had detected Alaya's deployment of its sole Heroic Vessel some time ago, far earlier than any deity did. How she did that, Notoria had little idea; after all, they're imprisoned in this dungeon located many, many miles underground. No matter how complete Pandora's domination of this place was, to have such delicate sense of detection was extraordinary.

Truth be told, if Notoria wasn't briefed on the true identity of the Heroic Vessel deployed, here, she would be hard-pressed to recognize SHIRŌ, even if her humanoid avatar passed right beside him on the street.

It was natural. Alaya spent its entire lifetime – despite not being part of conventional time and space – to combat Gaia. Its masterpiece, the Heroic Vessels, were essentially required to cheat the World's supervision of everything in it, especially in this era, when Gaia's direct avatar still existed in Greece.

Thus, this information was crucial for Pandora to gain a foothold to the world aboveground – the five tomes couldn't exactly walk in plain sight, obviously – while undermining both Gaia and Alaya at the same time.

The Heroic Vessel SHIRŌ's first child in this era: Molpadia of the Amazons.

The girl was born from a fleeting night of fancy between him and Hippolyta, the graceful Amazonian knight-queen. The Amazons were notoriously hard to procreate with; either their partner ended up dying of exhaustion or exertion, or their natural constitution was too strong for a male's sperm to fertilize. Therefore, like some powerful female figures out there, they preferred strong males, no matter where they came from in life.

The fact the man Hippolyta chose was somewhat handsome, well-educated, of royal birth, and an S-Ranked adventurer surely didn't make matters worse. Notoria even physically drooled sometimes during her reconnaissance of him, especially when he bathed and showcased that perfect body of his…

Under Goetia's questioning gaze, she shook her head to clear her thoughts. Strong emotions could travel between the five tomes, and while Goetia wouldn't care very much of this emotion, it would be _very_ awkward if she slipped up and transmitted these dirty thoughts to their 'mother'.

Going back to the topic, Molpadia was still young, not far off from taking her first steps. Yet the militaristic Amazons had already begun her training as a warrior. However adjusted it was to her actual age, it was still amazing to see how the young girl tried her best in her training, often times sparring with children twice her age and winning.

Clearly, the apple didn't fall far from the tree. Hippolyta herself was likely the strongest Amazon to ever lived, which explained Molpadia's talent.

Heroic Vessels, by nature, were largely immune to manipulation, either mentally or spiritually. If faced one-on-one – nay, even if the five tomes manifested their avatars and fought SHIRŌ together, they might still lose. Notoria hadn't seen either his Reality Marble or Knight Arms, but their might quite possibly exceeded Pandora's ultimate raw strength.

Their children, however, were _not_ immune to manipulation.

Taking advantage of children? _'My, that's my specialty!'_ Notoria gleefully thought.

Though there was little else to work on, as scrying Heroic Vessels were very taxing for her, it was enough for her to decisively request Pandora to release her avatar from this place.

If she could get her hands on Molpadia…

'_Well, wouldn't that be exciting?'_

* * *

"F-Finally! IT'S ATHEEEEEEENNNNNNNSSSSSSSS!"

The embarrassing declaration came from Medea's supple, young lips, now supported with a height taller than her aunt. Spreading her thin arms wide, her straight violet hair – now brushing the back of her knees – bounced among the winds, spreading a strange musk and enticing those around her, with her triangular ears peeking from the purple strands.

Circe caught up with her moments later, slightly out of breath despite being the better martial artist. Truly, this young girl could move so fast and energetically when it's not about her lessons! It's rather futile scolding her; Circe's seen it all, how young kids grew more rebellious when they grew up, especially when they'd grown beyond the size of their supervising adults.

It's better to let her run free, while binding her subtly to prevent dangerous things from approaching her or vice versa.

"Aunt Circe! Aunt Circe! Look! It's a giant statue!"

The older girl immediately moved to lower Medea's pointing finger, lightly warning her, "That's rude, Medea. Don't want Her Highness Athena to smite you, no?"

"Uuu… Is she such a petty person?"

Circe shook her head, her pink hair flowing along with the movement. "Well, to be honest… I haven't met her myself. It's just… people's staring, you know?"

Medea pursed her lips. "Then it should be fine! If anyone's got a problem with it, they can say it to my face!"

'_I'm sure they'd love to, pretty girl…'_ Circe sighed internally at her niece's impudence.

It's often both frustrating and proud of seeing the changes in a younger person. Now, Circe wasn't exactly the tallest or the most well-proportioned woman – her charms laid in the seductive irony of a fairy-like beauty with a teenaged body. But, still, seeing the little girl, who only just recently often sat on her lap, outgrew her was rather gratifying.

The impudence Medea had now wasn't a complete surprise, either. Most magi changed their personalities subtly as they gained experience, as was the goal of this very trip. All those things: running away from home, disobeying her father, fighting off mercenaries, casual holidays…

The ever-changing sense from 'death' to 'alive' back to 'death' was paramount to any magus. Now that Medea had it, her own self also matured. It's solely Circe's responsibility to guide her and avoid anything which might lead her astray.

She's doing a pretty good job too, as Medea slowly came back to earth, her gaze lowered due to embarrassment.

"I-I… I mean… U-Uhm…" Blabbering on while blushing slightly, she pulled on Circe's sleeves. "L-Let's check in first! Our inn is this way, right?"

"Geez, this girl…" Circe sighed, while smiling quietly.

Athens was a bustling city, and was no stranger to beautiful creatures roaming its streets. Public order was excellent, and the law was kept properly, courtesy of a relationship with the deity of [Justice], the goddess Astraea. Besides, Athena strongly disliked disorder; thus, the state of the city was close enough to self-governing and self-maintenance.

The two girls were dressed more conservatively, compared to the looser and airier clothes of Colchis. The near-translucent parts clothing their limbs were replaced by a more common plain tunic, though still of high quality, as the previous clothes were too delicate and expensive to risk continuous usage through Greece. They were on an adventure, after all.

Besides, both Medea and Circe had grown tired of lecherous gazes from men, and the occasional women, along the way. Though they were flattered, and there were only a few stupid enough to try anything with them, the constant leering did take its toll, to the point where Circe abstained from sex for a while.

Usually, she'd just go to a brothel and did a part-time job there to fulfil her needs, under a magical disguise to prevent her [Divinity] from leaking out. A few spells here and there meant she was able to choose her clients, mostly young men with great girth and stamina.

She did miss the Heroic Vessel, though. Their night was… _unforgettable_, to say the least. He had the uncanny ability to make her submit through pure physical means alone, instead of using aphrodisiacs or magical enhancements most inferior men (compared to him) had.

'_Is he still single? Hmm… I don't think it'll be a surprise if I hear him getting married soon…'_ Circe thought wistfully. Naturally, she had little desire for a long-term relationship, unlike Medea's constant fantasies, so a fling here and there, especially with a committed man, was thrilling in its own way.

Just ask some of her little cute piglets.

"M-Medea… S-Slow down…"

"Ah, sorry!"

Like the good girl she inherently was, Medea cradled the side of her aunt, gingerly assisting her in walking faster in Circe's new footwear. It's a pair of high platform sandals she just bought for some reason; Medea's slightly confused, since it didn't really suit her aunt's general sense of style, according to her own experience.

'_Aren't those uncomfortable?'_

However, it did push Circe's height closer to Medea's improved one.

Her aunt was silent for the true reason she bought them, and unbeknownst to Medea, she was eerily close to the actual truth: Circe simply disliked her figure being outclassed by her own niece. Therefore, since body augmentation Magecraft was still in its infancy, Circe simply chose to utilize external fashion instead.

From another girl's point of view, it's working quite well. Circe lacked no natural beauty, and Medea admired her since she was small for it: a great magus, beautiful and elegant. It's only through these few years of acquainting herself with her aunt's true nature that Medea saw Circe's mischievous side, which only improved her charm even more.

The platform sandals did push up her pert buttocks slightly. It's a shame it's quite thin, as Circe was naturally slim and petite, but at least her legs appeared slightly longer. That must count for something, right?

* * *

Upon seeing Athens' Adventurers' Guild main doors, Medea almost leapt in excitement. Only the curious gazes of the people around her prevented her from doing so.

Her aunt was resting in the inn, having lightly strained her calves after a few days walking on those ridiculously tall sandals. Magecraft did help, but there's no better remedy than actual rest and a few herb salves. Besides, Medea was itching for some 'me-time', having been under constant supervision of her aunt.

Make no mistake, she vastly preferred Circe's presence than her father's overbearing one. Unlike in Colchis, the older magus was always open to suggestion and a few fun pranks, though Circe rarely instigate things by herself, perhaps out of consideration of the young Medea. Still, compared to that gilded cage she was living in, this life of travelling really suited her and satiated her appetite.

It appeared her father would be kept waiting for her return, after all…

The heavy wooden doors – enchanted, no doubt – opened on its own as Medea stepped in, coinciding her struts with the entering and exiting adventurers. Cloaking most of her face with a long scarf, she stealthily admired the interior – classy, but still solemnly business-like.

'_S-So this is an adult's working space…' _Medea silently admired, her mouth agape roundly.

\- Thud. Thud. Thud.

A drawback in being so awe-struck was that she was near-constantly being bumped this way and that as she made her way around the place, her behavior reeking of a tourist's manners. The veterans inside recognized her as a rookie immediately, though very little actually rose up and offered some 'explanations' for the young lady. Such custom was popular back in the day, but was frowned upon by recent wave of new adventurers, especially the latest S-Ranker, Sir Seirios.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Medea steeled herself and walked into the registration counter.

A raccoon beastgirl warmly greeted her with a smile, after eyeing Medea all this while. Naturally, the receptionist department was even keener regarding who was experienced and who wasn't, and this latest visitor clearly hadn't even been to Athens before, much less to one of the largest branches of the Adventurers' Guild, second only to the main office in Mycenae.

Medea finally heard the infamous lines she read all the time in her books.

"Welcome to the Adventurers' Guild. May I help you?"

However, before the young girl could answer, she was promptly shoved aside by another cloaked individual – smaller by a head than Medea.

"W-Wha-?! …M-Master!"

Recognizing who it was, Medea immediately fell obedient and lowered her gaze to meet her petite teacher's stern glare.

Oh, wait, it was Hecate's usual expression – no 'sterner' than usual.

Now, having a goddess descending into the mortal plane took a lot of energy, evident from Hecate's urgent body language. Understanding this matter as her student for a long time, Medea quietly followed her into a corner under the raccoon receptionist's confused stare.

Without even letting the younger girl a rest in thought, Hecate rapidly fired out several words in her usual succinct manner.

"Trouble is brewing, though not from your father. I've taken care of that; thus, take care of yourself and your older apprentice. Be careful of demigods and their parents – _all of them_."

"W-Wait, M-Master…! You're talking too fast!" Medea waved her hand around, slightly panicking. She's never been good under this kind of pressing situation. "What 'trouble'? What about my father?!"

"I do not have much time, silly girl," Hecate scolded, though her tone was warm towards one of her precious students. "Your fate is converging with many at the eye of an incoming storm. Prepare yourself, and your Magecraft. _Do not die_."

"D-Die?" Medea almost squeaked loudly in fear, but her Magecraft training kicked in and calmed her down. "W-What should I do now?"

Under the oversized cloak, Hecate tilted her head, letting her teal bangs sway to one side. "Continue what you are going to do today. Trust your heart, and use your head to complement it. That is the only warning I can give you – both as a teacher and a mother."

Before the [Trinity] disappeared in a swarm of light motes, Hecate smiled thinly – a rare expression on the usually emotionless woman.

"Take care."

The small gesture of affection almost brought tears to Medea's face, but she stiffened her expression with resolve.

The 'trouble' her teacher mentioned did frighten her, make no mistake. She was but a maiden of sixteen – inexperienced and gullible. Talented, yes, but by no means formidable against the foes heroes faced almost daily.

Adventuring was a risky business, which was why her father sternly warned her off that dream. But now, _she was here_, and she would step forward, as per her teacher's suggestion. There was no sense in backing off, now she's come so far.

Her Master trusted her. That was enough for her to jump off this fateful, figurative cliff.

She rushed back towards the patiently waiting receptionist beastgirl, claiming her registration.

"I wish to enlist as an adventurer!"

Those words marked the beginning of her second life.

* * *

**Glossary Update!**

* * *

**D**

**Divine Graph**  
The foundation of a deity's Mystery, Authority, and legend. It consists of data which makes an individual unique, and heavily relies on one's worshipers' perception on what's true or false regarding said deity. It can change over time as cultures and intelligence develop, at times merging similar facets of several deities – or those individuals wholly themselves – into one new being. Those whose names are lost to history often times have their Divine Graphs overwritten too many times, leaving them as anonymous prototype gods/goddesses, though their initial powers remain. Currently, those with this status are slumbering in the Reverse Side of the World, requiring their true names to be uncovered to awaken and cross the barrier.


	13. Rendevous

**Hello again, everyone! Back to my more normal (slower) writing schedule, with not only IRL stuff, but also beta work piling up. I'm currently doing work for The King of Despair, Venompool, and greyblueflames (who's back after some hiatus), so check out their stories as well!**

**Alright, I'll admit it: we have actually transitioned from one arc to the next. I'm never one for a concrete separation between two sections of a story, preferring to bridge the gap with useful, tasteful fillers and character developments (unlike most long-running anime production houses). Therefore, the basis of this arc has been in place for quite a while. I personally can't even tell you when one ends and another begins, so bear with it. I'm glad you guys liked the previous chapter well, though.**

**One major note: Some sections in this story, as diligent readers may note, are viewed from another person's PoV. Their accuracy may vary; even ****Shirō may not be always correct. Therefore, take things with a pinch of salt. The copies of the Beasts I have going on as Pandora's hands-and-feet are also different than the canonical FGO one - namely, they're not even at full power yet. Their personalities, naturally, also differ. Glossary Updates won't contain outright copies of what you guys can search in either the FGO or TYPE-MOON wikia; I'm never one for cheap copies. Some shout-outs too towards Lelouchz and Quartermass for their suggestions to my plea in the last chapter. A guest reviewer did hit on one of my future plans, though, so shout-out to them as well: HV-S03 will feature some sort of 'empire-building sequel', as I quote, more so than this one.  
**

**Now, to the mailbag:  
Lost Stardust1: ****Well, this is TYPE-MOON, after all...  
Dangulus: [excerpt from the reply] ****Yes, it's exactly as you said. Well done noticing that!  
nighthawk187053: ****They cleaned house and started over as 'Erithemaeus'. The spin-off was taken down, as they wanted to rewrite it when they have time later in the future. Perhaps you should PM him for further details.  
Lord Naruto: ****Thank you for the review! I won't say anything regarding Atalanta, because that's spoiler material... Though you're quite right on another point: I do like Shirou's portrayal in Prisma Illya since that's precisely how we fanfiction writers have been writing the 'Badass Shirou' in our stories. It's a dream come true seeing what we all imagine in our head officially and canonically realized in print. In regards to this version of SHIROU, his UBW's background has been partially explained in the previous story, HV-S01. Check it out!  
DPSS & Trasgo Madaraz Artifex: ****You're mostly correct. But remember, that was described from Hippolyta's PoV, so the actual scene may differ. This chapter marks the start of a new arc. The wedding should happen at the end. As for how long that is... go ahead and suffer more! Hahaha!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

It's rare I'm in this kind of bad mood, especially with the warmth of Atalanta's and Medusa's body still lingering around me.

Still, a visit from my boss certainly will do so, because I'm completely unprepared for it.

So, the usual.

\- Seed corruption imminent.

Alaya immediately opens with that statement, without even bothering for pleasantries. Now, I'm not one for that either, since our meetings will most certainly contain discussions for the fates of countless lives. However, its sentence confuses me for a moment, before an epiphany strikes me.

I can feel my own face contort in horror.

"Which woman I impregnated? There's so many I have casual relationships with…"

In this era of Greece, despite contracts – both verbal and formal – bind strong, intimate romance is rather casual. I suspect it's due to its patron goddess's behavior – Aphrodite has never been one for loyalty, or monogamy – and the attitude slowly permeates the culture. Relationships of either sex, both heterogeneous and homogenous, are accepted widely, though to differing levels, naturally.

Therefore, despite my best efforts, this body of mine is easily enticed to promiscuous intercourses with many women. This being Jason, I should've known better; still, I fall to this sin every now and then. The hero was famous for his disastrous relationships with women, and it seems I'm now cursed with a similar line of fate.

\- Hippolyta of the Amazons.

I mentally smack myself in the face.

That woman… is stunningly beautiful, as is most powerful women. I hypothesize their inherent strength and talents unknowingly transform their face and body into alluring ones for both men and women alike, and Hippolyta is no exception.

However, our friendship… is complicated, at best.

Chiefly because she looks exactly like Mordred – or to be more precise, Altria.

The elegant calmness and rigid poise is a spitting image to the 'Altria Pendragon' summoned by 'Shirō Emiya' in the future. The British King I met was more relaxed in her role, both as a king and head of a family, but Hippolyta is more similar to the former. Their way of talking and voice are even nearly indistinguishable from each other if they speak the same tongue.

That night… I didn't even drink myself that much! It's Hippolyta who's way too drunk!

Faced with the naked, pristine, virgin body of an Amazonian queen, I got swept along with the flow and embraced her.

To be honest with myself, I don't dislike her. That sex was great, and there was no conflict right after that. Hippolyta, when she was still sober, has knowingly chosen me as her 'mate', as per Amazonian tradition, and her attraction to me was clear even before the night of that party.

Certainly, I don't love her to the same level as Atalanta and a few others in my past, but… Impregnating her? Really? Why didn't she inform me of this matter?! Is this not a _very important thing_, one a freakin' _queen_ should notify her partner about?

Apparently, she has no desire to do so, and thus I am kept in the dark until now.

I don't expect her to come barging in my wedding – which invitation now seems foolish – and create some drama. As the gods engage in adulterous and fleeting flings, so do their worshippers, and bastard children are as common as flying geese. They still bring with them the responsibilities entailed, but they're certainly not sources for legal, political, and social drama they will in future cultures.

That is the hope: that our relationship stays amicable. Heck, I may be glad to marry her again, because that union will benefit my political position greatly.

It's not like Atalanta will mind…

The Arcadian princess has lived in the wild for so long, her common sense is rather warped. The irony of a virgin huntress, devoted to Artemis's mission, following the rules of the jungle, where polygamy isn't even commonly practiced, but has transformed into an expectation, is clear. She even not-so-subtly hints lately I should groom Medusa into a second wife later in the future.

Well… That idea has merit, but comes with further complications I don't want to think about right now. I only want to focus on the warning Alaya gave me.

'Seed'. _My_ seed. A child with Hippolyta… is corrupted? By who, or what?

\- Pandora.

Alaya comes with an answer, to which I gasp and nod.

The Heroic Vessel program is a tremendous success, I first must admit. Gaia's influence and resistance is minimal, precisely because we work within her rules, instead of against them – utilizing and combining them with Alaya's concept and power to create the Heroic Vessels. Against this combination, there are very little weaknesses others can exploit, and one of the most obvious ones is the use of my blood relatives – or, to be more precise, a child directly related, gene-wise, to this body of Jason.

The threat is logical and pragmatic. A detached part of me even wants to praise Pandora for her resources and swiftness of action, striking at a place I didn't even know existed until this moment.

"How will she 'corrupt' my child?" I ask urgently, though it matters little in this mental space outside space and time. "Also… what's the child's name?"

\- Daughter; 'Molpadia'. A tome has found its way to Amazon.

"A tome, huh? One of the five, I presume…" I mumble, formulating plans and counterplans at an astonishing speed. "And are Molpadia and Hippolyta in danger?"

\- Negative.

"Then I can still make it."

* * *

\- Suu. Haa. Suu. Haa. Suu. Haa.

A pair of breaths could be heard among the usual cacophony of forest dwellers, if one was truly listening. Even if that was the case, the two people causing said sounds were only doing so intentionally. When they're serious, not even the most astute bestial instincts could hear their movements and breathing.

"Are you used to it now?" Atalanta coolly asked. "This is the first step to fully integrate your Od and Mana properly, instead of using it instinctively."

Medusa silently nodded. Her proficiency at this breathing exercise wasn't good enough to allow her to practice and talk at the same time. However, streams of sweat had already dripped down her long hair onto the ground, proof of her level of mental exertion.

"I shall accompany you for a while longer. Until then, just continue doing this as you are."

Because the younger girl was silent, Atalanta shifted her attention somewhere else, feeling slightly lonely now that Shirō had left.

It's not much of a big deal, really, as the wedding preparation would still take several more days to complete. They'd done all they could, and now they're just practically waiting for the guests to arrive. Owing to political and social constraints, some tradition must be observed; thus, the speed of the incoming guests was slow.

Her uncle and Herakles had arrived, along with another select few guests. Atalanta's hut wasn't big enough to house all of them; therefore, they decided to create an atmospheric campground for a space to mingle. The wedding would be outdoors anyway – now, the guests could get used to the area and scenery.

Shirō suddenly asked for permission to leave last night. She immediately frowned at the unusualness of the request's timing, but as he explained his troubles to her, she sent him off with a smile.

What kind of a wife she'd be if not supportive of her husband's endeavors? Even if said 'endeavor' involved taking care of his mistress and the bastard child he had.

Atalanta had seen worse. Many men and women of authority abused their social standings and oppressed the people around them, forcing them into non-consensual relationships before cruelly treating them after the deed was done. Abandonment was actually the preferred option – at the very least, it allowed the aggrieved party to start over and choose a new path.

If they were confined in any way in said authorities' compound, or worse – tortured after they complained, it would quickly get to the point where the victims were pleading for death as a release.

Countless numbers of such tyrants had died under Atalanta's sharp talons. She didn't even want to waste her precious arrows on people like them – she wanted to feel the satisfaction of crushing their pulsating, fist-sized, warm hearts in front of their terrified and regretful faces.

That was only when the cases didn't involve children. Most of the time, the forced rape had damaged the victims – male or female – so terribly they lost the ability to reproduce. However, some rare cases bore mistreated and malnourished children, which immediately set Atalanta off in a spree even Shirō and Artemis couldn't stop.

The ensuing bloodbath practically guaranteed her promotion into an A-Ranker some time ago, as her targets were highly-wanted men and women. The pay she received – and took away from those undeserving _beasts_ – also allowed her to buy off this entire forest from her ever-watching father, creating a natural preserve she always wanted to have.

So it's good if Shirō wanted to be responsible for the… _situation_ he's created. She knew him well – the woman involved was most likely a good person, being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Atalanta wouldn't even mind him bringing her, and the child, here to live alongside them, so long as their inherent personalities didn't clash.

A strong alpha male – they didn't get much stronger than Shirō, admittedly – deserved a pack of quality women. Atalanta was one. Medusa was one, though she's still a little bit too young to understand these things.

She's never met Hippolyta, but her status as the Amazonian Queen certainly had some weight behind it. The Amazon must be a great woman – and most importantly in this day and age, a powerful one.

Speaking of which… how many litters could she bear and rear? How many did Shirō want… How many males, how many females…

'_Ugh, the life of a wife is hard…'_ she internally complained, her spirit depleting by every passing moment not being healed by Medusa's cuteness. Therefore, she refocused her attention on the still-training young girl, before nodding in satisfaction.

Her figure blurred away silently, not wanting to break Medusa's concentration.

She perched herself atop of one of the highest trees around – a favorite pastime of hers. It's gotten to the point where Shirō nagged her not to take naps there, since it's so comfortable and there's very little chance of her falling off. Even if she did fall off, her innate instincts were good enough to land on another safe branch to continue her nap.

Stretching her entire body like a lioness, she observed her surroundings in earnest. Not in the mood to nap today, she chose to watch over the entire forest, just in case something popped up.

She would never allow something like what happened to her to occur ever again, to anyone. A centaur – bar Chiron – approaching the forest limits would immediately be shot to death.

As her jade eyes swivel about, she took a bite out of her prepared snack – an apple, obviously. Tauropolos wasn't in its familiar perch on her back, but it was of little use now. With Herakles here, all Atalanta needed to do, in case something did happen, was smite any troublemakers with stones and twigs. The effect would've been the same – i.e. death – but the collateral damage would be a lot neater.

It's a trick suggested to her by her fiancé, who also taught her the more advanced archery skills she used today. Back then, she mostly relied on the basics her uncle taught her, as bow-and-arrows were the most efficient manner to hunt for a young girl who lacked strength and length to utilize something else.

Still, how far did that get her? What use was her archery skills, if it couldn't even save her purity by herself?

"_There are plenty of modifications you can make to your stance and power to vary your shot, Atalanta."_

When he said that, she only deadpanned in silence, as that was the basic of the very basics. Why was he telling her that? Even an amateur in archery knew that!

However, in the ensuing spar, he showed her arrow flight patterns she had never thought possible, much less seen before.

When did one imagine an arrow could fly _straight up _from a horizontal arc? Or to track her back _after_ she had dodged one, either to the left or the right? Or even to _stop_ entirely, right before it could harm her skin in an act of mercy?

Initially, she suspected his bow was enchanted. Back then, she didn't have Tauropolos, and because they're using homemade arrows from her stock, there was no other way they could behave like that. Indeed, the bow was made from a material she's never seen before – black, light, and flexible at certain points. Clearly, it wasn't made from natural materials, but even after they switched bows, his arrows were still unpredictable to her.

The idea of imbuing magic energy into arrows popped up in her mind, but she dismissed it entirely. That was a technique even she could do, but all it did was enhance the power and length of the shot, not control it like a puppet. Without carving manipulative runes on the bow or arrows outright, his method certainly was unfathomable.

The most annoying thing was his constant tease of the true answer, never forthrightly telling her the real reason. He said it was all for her 'education', but it only made her struggle for a few months with this case.

No matter how she loved him, even back then, when it was just a huge crush, it made her avoid him for a while, sulking like a child.

By its nature, pure magic energy couldn't survive for long outside of a clear structure, either a living organism or a magical formation. Its effects could be lengthened if designed and supported properly, such as the city defense magical cannons used against invaders. The magic formula etched into the cannons initiated the Mystery of 'a large light beam', then aiming and firing it towards their targets. The first manipulation of the World's nature was already finished by the time the spell was triggered.

However, to constantly make corrections and changes to a separate, mobile tool, without prior preparations like runes or other tribal engravings, was thought to be impossible.

And it was. Shirō simply did something else.

While chuckling and caressing her to uplift her sunken mood, he explained the tricks he employed in his archery.

Thin, almost imperceptible strands of Od were attached to the back of every arrow, enabling him to control his shot remotely. It was simple in explanation, but not in execution – the degree of precision and efficiency required for this technique was unbelievable.

When she tried it at first, she could only maintain the strands for a few feet, before they disappeared. That was already a great boost to her arsenal; if she could change the trajectory of her shots in those first few feet by taking into account the target's avoidance pattern, it increased her strike rate tremendously.

Shirō's more advanced version could extend much, _much_ further, thus enabling him to delay the correction until the very last moment. Maintaining the strands, once she got the knack of it, wasn't a big strain on her magic reserves; it's the concentration which was crucial. Akin to moving each fingers and toes independently, she only mastered this technique last year, despite her natural talents which Shirō claimed to surpass him.

Yeah, right.

Absent-mindedly, she threw the core of the apple in her hand – having finished it in several ravenous bites – towards a bush near Medusa, where a particularly stubborn panther was lurking.

It struck the animal right on its forehead, eliciting a yelp and causing it to turn tail.

No one was allowed to touch Atalanta's prized treasure. Not even Shirō – though she could arrange some scheduled rotations.

* * *

"La~ La~ La~ La~ La~ I have a Spatial Bag… La~ La~ La~ …"

Medea was very happy, to the point of being oblivious to the surrounding stares at her odd antics. Obviously, it's not every day when one saw an astonishingly beautiful young girl, well-bred and regal in appearance, to casually stroll down the main streets without any company, much less in such a carefree, joyful mood.

An experienced pair of eyes might notice the way she came – from the local Adventurers' Guild – and deduce the true reason. That was… her glowing acceptance from there, where she immediately was promoted to a C-Ranked adventurer in the beginner's test.

Normally, adventurers started slow, either earning an E- or D-Ranked rating soon after they joined. This seemingly harsh evaluation came from a myriad of considerations; namely, the rookies' skill, experience, and background. Since most adventurers came from other occupations, with adventuring being their second or third choice in life, most of them came into the Guild after being hard-done by, and thus quite miserable already.

It's only after a few decades that the occupation had such an increase in popularity – spearheaded by Chiron's management – and enticed those from a privileged background to come and have a try.

Medea's skills, however, could at most earned her a D-Ranked evaluation. No matter how much of a prodigy she was, adventurers prized experience and guile first and foremost, as the ultimate survival skills; promising rookies often ended up that way: _promising_, but without the lifespan to fully utilize that promise.

The examiners who faced her agreed on one thing: she's _good_. Really, really good, disregarding her age. A master of Magecraft, nearing the realm of the True Magics? Anyone like that in the adventuring business would be welcome.

It's at this stage that her apparent age negatively impacted her evaluation. If she arrived as a mature-looking witch with deep countenance and demeanor, then they might let her go just like that with a C-Ranked grade. However, looking at her naïve expression, often times during an interview, and easily-distracted personality, they'd already decided to induct her as a D-Ranker instead.

However, they certainly didn't count on their examinee cheating so blatantly in front of them.

Well, perhaps 'cheating' was too strong of a word. After all, if Medea didn't get caught, it didn't count, right? And the examiners didn't even realize they're already in her grasp as soon as they met her.

She was Medea, the sister-apprentice of Circe, the Witch of Seduction, who possessed a [Charm] Element powerful enough to overwhelm anyone with mortal blood in them. It's a spell she learned in secret – after all, if Hecate found out her teachings was perverted into such a vulgar spell, Circe's head would literally roll non-stop as punishment.

Due to Medea's nature, she's not nearly as proficient in it as her aunt, but enough to cast a passive, slower version of it without incantations or overt use of magic energy. As a result, she simply charmed her way into receiving a higher-than-usual passing marks, ending up as a C-Ranker.

Still, she was skilled enough to tone down the effects quickly to prevent the examiners, of various sexes and preferences, to be as attached to her as the piglets reared by Circe. Despite being little older than 15, she had that much talent, at least – or to be more precise, it's exactly because of this talent Hecate was willing to teach her.

As a C-Ranker, she was granted usage of a Spatial Bag, a peculiar construction patented by Chiron and licensed solely to the Adventurers' Guild. Its creation methods weren't exactly secret, as most of its effects were replicable individually or in pairs. What made it very special was how it was able to hold all its enchantments together without any conflict.

[Preservation], which had attributes of [Time] and [Space] in it. [Infinity] and [Separation], major subsets of [Space]. There were also traces of [Order] and [Chaos] imbued in the physical bag itself and the hollowness inside it, among other miscellaneous Elements.

It resulted in a perfect tool for an adventurer, who usually required a lot of materials and equipment in their missions.

As a matter of fact, to show how simple it was to replicate _some_ of the Bag's effects, Medea usually kept her long staff, around a head taller than her entire body, in a separate dimension whose entry portal was situated on the inner linings of her coat. As she changed clothes, the spell must be able to be taken off and re-applied to another one, without even taking the staff – as well as some _private_ stuff – out.

However, try as she might, she was never able to solve this homework Hecate gave her, after finding out how much Medea adored adventurers through her reading. She suspected her esteemed teacher had long already figured out the true mechanisms of the Spatial Bag, but decided against meddling in it… because it's not in Hecate's personality to do so. She'd rather stay quiet… and to be fair, doing nothing else, really.

Hecate was simply that much of an introvert.

The Spatial Bag wasn't for sale, and was reserved for adventurers' use only. Given the potential to use it for mayhem, it's a good idea to regulate it within a constrained group of people – as becoming a C-Ranker was hard enough already – with strict identification purposes. For example, Medea's newly-registered Spatial Bag could only be used by her, and in the event of her death, the Bag would've needed a clean slate-wipe by the Guild Master himself, lest it became unusable forever.

"Ah, Aunt Circe! Over here!" Medea cheerfully waved her arm towards a rather grumpy pink-haired young woman, whose current hunched posture made her petite figure even smaller. "W-What's wrong?" The niece worriedly asked.

The new high platform sandals were ditched back in the inn, and Circe's now wearing her casual sandals. Therefore, Medea assumed her pain had lessened enough for her aunt to walk around like this. If so, then why was the older magus looking so unhappy? Did someone slight her?

"M-Master's just visited me in my r-room..." Circe replied warily. "S-She's as strict as always… Nagging me non-stop…"

"A-Ah, I see…" Medea responded awkwardly. Should she reveal her meeting with their master too? Though she failed to see a need here…

She did, however, felt warm and fuzzy inside at the stark difference in treatment between her and her aunt by their master.

"Haa…" With a long, _long_ tired sigh, Circe finally snapped clear of her depressing funk, noticing the Spatial Bag jutting out partially from inside Medea's robes. "Passed the test? That's quick, even for you…"

Medea _definitely_ shouldn't explain how she cheated the test right now, especially to this blabbermouth of a witch of an aunt.

"T-They took care of me r-really well!" Medea tried to explain as best she could, omitting whatever suspicious things in her story as she reiterated the exam procedure. "It's just theoretical and practical exams, much easier than Master Hecate's tests! It's no big deal, really…"

"Alright, alright…" Circe looked and sounded disinterested, since she's already certain her younger apprentice-sister would pass with flying colors. Naturally, she didn't comprehend the magnitude of the Spatial Bag's presence, as she's not as attuned to the Guild's process as Medea. "Are you going to take some missions, and cancel our holiday? I'm up for whatever you decide; you're an adult now, so be responsible for once."

'_I don't want to hear that from yyoooooouuuuuuuuuu!'_ Medea scolded internally, though she maintained her innocent smile on the surface.

However, she's already decided on their next path forward.

Her aunt, Circe, who had taken risks to bring her out of that gilded cage of a home, loved freedom, first and foremost. Medea had realized the extent the older woman took to watch over her naïve and innocent self, despite being not very bright in terms of the subtleties of human interactions, and thus the younger witch was resolved in this decision.

Who was her to continue to force her opinions on what had been a pleasure trip from the start? At the very least, she should give Circe a holiday to remember.

Adventuring could come after that.

With a steely smile, she declared. "We're sightseeing to Arcadia next!"

* * *

Notoria couldn't stop clicking her tongue in frustration at the sight before her.

Where did it all go wrong, really? Now, she had to do her mission the _hard way_.

It's supposed to be a simple corrupting job. Notoria inherently had the greatest flexibility in forming her humanoid body, able to even shift into liquid or gaseous state if necessary, albeit taxing. Her target was a little girl, barely older than a toddler, and infiltrate her heart to use her against her biological father, with none the wiser. Even her father, the great Heroic Vessel himself, had no idea the girl existed; why should others?

It turned out the Amazons around her weren't exactly idiots, either.

They were famed for their battle prowess, as well as their heavily matriarchal society, but nothing more. No signs of advanced culture and civilization, no famed scholar or artist, and no prominent philosopher or magi. All the clues pointed to a strong, but barbaric group of people, one who lived according to their base desires.

For her, those kinds of people were prime targets.

But how could Molpadia's attendants suddenly were alerted to her arrival? Then, how could Penthesilea showed up? Then, how could Hippolyta, and the rest of the Amazonian army brigades, showed up?

Regardless of the real reason, she's annoyed due to a different cause entirely.

'_Why. Won't. Just. They. Die?!'_ She screamed internally, almost to the point of outwardly tearing her hair out.

Not that she'd do so. This body and appearance were chosen by her 'mother', the esteemed Lady Pandora herself. Who was she to harm, or even change parts of it?

Notoria openly gritted her teeth at the Amazonians' surprisingly sturdy struggles. To be frank, their efforts could barely be described as a 'defense', as most of them were nearing Thanatos's door. Blood and flesh, and even parts of internal organs, strewed the field where Molpadia favored to play on, leaving the previously-lush garden into a barren, overturned landscape.

Speaking of the little girl, she's shivering in tears at a faraway corner, yet Notoria's sharp glare continued to lock onto her amber ones, eliciting a yelp every now and then.

Upon closer inspection, her father's features made it into her appearance, somewhat. Her hair, outwardly as dark as her mother's, had shown glimpses of dark copper, tied in cute side-tail. It was dirtied by the shower of dirt and gore around her, the horrifying image of war imprinting itself in her young mind.

Her legs had long been wetted by copious amount of piss and scat, such was the terror Notoria inflicted on her at first glance. Despite her young age, Molpadia _knew_ this woman was _something wrong_ – a being who shouldn't exist in nature's law.

Earlier, she was clinging onto her servant's leg, but that woman was squished into a gory red paste on the ground. Her cries were a mix of surprise, sadness, and rage, akin to the roar of a young cub, which alerted everyone in the vicinity. _That_, too, wasn't supposed to happen; Notoria planned on making the two unconscious, before disposing of the servant later.

Discreet. Silent. Deadly.

All of the above… wasn't present right now.

\- Haa… Haa… Haa… Haa… Haa…

The Amazons were all breathing heavily – naturally, as their injuries were starting to take their toll. Notoria herself wasn't specialized in out-and-out offensive power, leading to this protracted battle simply due to the fact the women couldn't harm the humanoid tome, and Notoria couldn't deal a decisive blow on any of them.

The white-haired one's ability was especially troublesome.

A gentle golden glow enveloped all Amazons present, strengthening their Conceptual Weight to the point they're able to harm Notoria's skin. More importantly, this glow – provided by an innate ability of the white-haired one – increased their endurance, enough so to prevent the female tome to one-shot each and every one of them.

Disregarding the queen, Hippolyta, herself, Penthesilea's supportive ability was more of a problem. Notoria's deeds had been exposed, and speed was the priority. Right now, she's in a deadlock; not even Goetia could spare the strength – and most importantly, the time – to save her.

Speaking of the Amazon Queen, her blows hurt the most. Already, there's several large gashes on Notoria's body caused by the rustic-looking spear the black-haired woman was wielding, though healing rapidly. There were also frightening shots of archery beforehand, one of which cleanly blasted Notoria's face clean off.

The older Amazon was covered in a red sash over her battle armor. It had little-to-none impressive visual effect, unlike her younger sister's ability, but it exuded a silent pressure of [Divinity], bringing her closer in Conceptual Strength to the Olympians.

Additionally, the woman's resolute face showed none of the cracks it had when she heard of her lover's incoming wedding.

'_I hate that kind of look the most…!'_ Notoria clicked her tongue, getting more and more irritated at her inability to simply finish the battle.

That's the expression of [Love], one of Aphrodite's purest and strongest attributes. The female Titan-slash-Olympian's true power was lessened by the possession of another attribute, [Lust], corrupting the first attribute and preventing it from achieving its true power. Despite the two being compatible, a mixture was still impure.

In Hippolyta's eyes, there was no impurity – only the determination to protect her family, as if she's some kind of heroine.

The petite woman, about half-a-head shorter than Notoria's mature form, took on a steady barehanded stance popularized by Chiron, its founder. Legs spread and rooted to the ground, with one hand covering her jaw and another shielding her lower stomach.

Droplets of blood fell from the tips of her extremities, yet her body stayed firm and true, with nary a shiver of emotion clouding her judgement.

Yes, that's the kind of expression where one was absolutely certain they would win, no matter the cost or the winning condition. No matter the odds, or the impossible obstacle rising before them, it was the kind of face Notoria hated the most.

She loved to see _despair_ and _grief_; the likes when hope was snatched away, at the very last moment, from a person. When they howled in defeat, when they cried in anguish, when they screamed in agony – those were honey to her throat, the bane of her existence.

Her outer body flickered away, not to retreat – there was a strange barrier allowing her entry, but not exit – but to rush for Molpadia. Right now, there was little chance of breaking this stalemate if she didn't take hostages. It's simply fortunate her target and the required hostage was the same person.

A net made of sturdy chains, each strong enough to bind several horses, appeared from her left and right side, attempting to stop her charge. At each end were Penthesilea's trusted royal guardians, numbering exactly 12, charging the chains with their Od and imbuing their mistress's ability into the net.

**Trojan Reinforce  
**_~ Rush of Elites ~_

It mattered little. A wave from Notoria's arms, still covered in her pristine, body-hugging black robe, shook apart the net just enough for her to slip through.

However, the moment she gathered magic energy to execute this move slowed her down just a touch. Normally, this moment went by without notice, as her execution speed wasn't shabby at all – but her opponent was the Amazon Queen herself.

\- BANG!

A strong blow, courtesy of a downwards axe kick, smacked her straight on the back. It sent Notoria's female form crashing down towards the ground, where Penthesilea's white tuft was waiting with an uppercut.

The tome managed to cross her arms to block the strike, yet the clenched fist smoothly transitioned into a grabbing motion, locking her in place for a well-placed knee strike into the gut.

"Guh!"

Once again, Notoria's inexperience and lack of ability in close-quarters combat showed as her body folded under the might of the attack. Before she could take another breath, a strong claw grasped the back of her head, followed by a swift elbow strike to the base of her cranium from Hippolyta, descending from the sky.

Lading cleanly, the sharp strike separated her made-up skeletal structures and pulverized them, yet a follow-up attack from both Amazonian royalties failed to land as the tome dissolved its body into liquid, escaping while tripping over both Hippolyta's and Penthesilea's legs, sending them scrambling and rolling on the ground.

As if on cue, the 12 female warriors from earlier crowded her form with various weapons: swords, staves, spears, hammers, and others landed around the black blob, trying to herd the liquid one way, before masses of pure, raw magical energy rained upon it.

Unfortunately, the Amazons' talent in Magecraft was subpar, at best. It only served as distraction for the surrounding warriors due to the strong light it emitted, giving Notoria ample time to regroup and reform her body some way away.

Her healing ability kicked in almost immediately, just as a glowing fist rocketed towards her face.

"A-Argh!"

But the cries thereafter didn't come from Notoria's mouth, but from Hippolyta, as her abdomen was pierced by a black tentacle sprouting from the tome's now semi-solid body.

The injury was deep, but the queen was used to it, as she's received several of these underhanded counters earlier. Still, it was enough for Notoria to transform into her gaseous form, trying to invade Hippolyta's insides through her various pores.

**Goddess of War  
**_~ Athena's Military Sash ~_

The expensive-looking red sash the queen wore trembled with power, rejecting Notoria with all its might, but it was struggling – Ars Notoria, whose [Charm] was enough to affect even a Protogenoi, was clearly stronger conceptually than the [Divinity] it granted Hippolyta.

Blood began to involuntarily spurt from the seven orifices on Hippolyta's head, spraying the gleeful Notoria's pristine face. Licking the droplets which fell close to her lips, she giggled maniacally at the Amazon Queen's gritty expression, before launching herself backwards to avoid an attack from Penthesilea.

"Sister! Are you still fine to continue?!" The white-haired princess urgently asked, declining to check on her sister's real condition in favor of keeping an eye on Notoria.

With steady arms, Hippolyta wiped the blood off her face. Fortunately, their eruption was caused by the strain [Goddess of War] was exerting on her body. With Notoria's temporary retreat, the [Divinity] contained within the sash began to slowly restore the Amazon back to full strength.

The speed was a far cry from the tome's seemingly unlimited regenerative capabilities, but every little thing would help.

There was no way she'd let this… _monster_ to lay her hands on Molpadia, her treasured daughter. Her misgivings towards Shirō, no matter how misplaced, was pushed to the back of her mind.

Instinctively, she knew she shouldn't feel so negatively about Shirō's new relationship. She was the one who decided not to inform him of Molpadia's existence, nor even her true feelings for him. She declared, back then, they must lay with each other because they were compatible, akin to a mating ritual between an alpha male and alpha female, not because of the cheesy, pedestrian, and volatile emotion called 'love'.

He was an astute person, and was likely able to see past her obvious lies – ones she even had a hard time believing when she heard it from her own mouth. However, there must exist some form of affection in his heart for her, as he obliged, despite his previous attitude of keeping a set distance between them.

Additionally, Hippolyta was aware of his royal blood. It was considered common practice for a prince like him to have multiple wives, lovers, and consorts, to the point of building a literal harem for his purposes. The Amazons were more secular in nature; their culture preferred steady monogamous relationships, only moving on once their partners proved incapable of further procreation – either through death or disability.

Still, her pride as a woman was unexpectedly torn when she heard the news. All these years of training – to be a ruler, a warrior, a _queen_ – failed her, earning her a frown from Penthesilea, who was present when she read the wedding invitation. Her younger sister hadn't met her true, destined partner yet, thus she acted more normally than Hippolyta's temporary showing of weakness.

Like her daughter, the queen knew what this… _being_ inherently was.

A fragment of sin, summoned by her own moment of failure. A punishment bestowed by Fate, because she instinctively cursed at the love already rooting itself firmly in her heart for the redheaded man. As jealousy burnt her psyche, so would a similar level of torture befall her daughter, the fruit of said love.

Yes, this was her own mistake – and her responsibility to fix.

Therefore, she would not – _could not_ – fall here. The reason being not because they held the upper hand against this abomination, nor because she had a trump card she could pull out whenever situation got dire.

The only reason was… _she had to win._ No matter the cost, she would not falter one step.

There was no light at the end of the tunnel. Her instincts told her so – they would spend days battling, only to lose via attrition. No help would come, no magical hero would appear and save the da-

* * *

Notoria inhaled and exhaled several times in quick succession. Their battle hadn't lasted more than a few minutes, but it's clear she only needed to continue this drawn-out fight until the Amazons fell. They were much tougher than expected, true, and she had lost the element of surprise, but make no mistake – she held the upper hand the moment she stepped into the Amazons' territory, and would do so until they were all annihilated.

To be honest, she didn't favor extinction to the same level of fanaticism her siblings did. She preferred the efficiency of controlling one crucial piece of the puzzle, using it to forcibly move the pieces surrounding it to rearrange the complete picture.

The little girl was the key. As long as she could get her hands on he-

\- Behind.

She turned her body as fast as she could the instant she felt a presence appearing in her blind spot. The question of how it got there could be put to later discussions – her entire being was screaming to get to safety first.

Yet a calloused palm had already clenched itself around her face, locking her body in place. There was a strange pressure from it which prevented her from shifting forms – and her eyes widened at the owner of the offending hand.

From between the fingers, her eyes were met by a shaggy mop of copper-red hair overhanging a pair of brilliant, silver eyes, _full of anger_.

'_Shit.'_

"**Unlimited Blade Works!"**


	14. Hope Extermination

**Hey, guys! I'm back with another new chapter. Thank you for the glowing praise for the fight scene, even for those whose reviews aren't replied to directly through PM or the mailbag below. Also shout-out for the anonymous reviewers who keep using 'Guest' as their pen-names for so long; while your suggestions are much appreciated, please allow me to directly address you guys next time. I welcome the new followers as well; haven't been giving you guys much love lately!**

**Ah, one more thing: my latest beta work with greyblueflames98 and The King of Despair are already out. Check out their stories!**

**Not very happy with the entertainment available in my life lately, TBH. Not many animes which interest me, my favorite LNs are all on hiatus, as well as second-rate Western and local movies filling out the cinemas. My anime cache is also wiped out, courtesy of a faulty HDD. However, I'm glad I found a good site to re-download all of them, so not all hope is lost.**

**With the rant over, here's the mailbag:  
****Lost**** Stardust1: Thank you for the review, but I'm not planning on leaving Athena the only deity alive later. (...) I don't think I'll reveal what I'm working on for the next series anytime soon.  
Jamaldrake: ****Thank you for the praise! (...) I hope I'll still improve in (future - _sic._) fight scenes.  
Genesis09 & Mythic Imagination: ****Thank you for the hate. Jokes aside, I don't think you need to look forward too much for the next chapter. Let's be honest, here: UBW's deployed. Do you really think there's going to be much of a fight?  
royal freshness12345: ****That's what I was imagining as well! However, I don't like putting song titles at the start of many scenes because it's really a sore sight. I don't know why many fanfiction writers are so adamant at sharing which music they listen to and recommend to their readers, because people's reactions to music are highly personal and subjective.  
Trasgo Madaraz Artifex: ****I prefer the Kaleid Liner EMIYA theme, btw. Though do please listen to whichever brings you the best atmosphere when reading my stories.  
Silver566: ****I don't think so. I'm not too comfortable with too many characters in play, as you can see in HV-S01's weaknesses. Peleus may be mentioned, but I don't think he'll make a proper appearance.  
****Uboninim: _Much_ later. The titular quest will occur once the cast grows up a bit more.**

**Let me know what you guys think, as usual. This chapter's myriad of PoVs may get confusing.**

* * *

In her nascent years of living, Molpadia had never looked up to a man – or, to be more precise, she never had a male figure worth looking up to.

No one could blame her, really. Even though Amazon wasn't no longer as extremely matriarchal as generations ago, there's still a sizeable gap between the rights allowed to female and male. It's even more apparent due to the status of her mother, Queen Hippolyta, and her aunt, Princess Penthesilea, who commanded legions of female warriors, who're in turn served and assisted by low-born males.

When she brought this up with her innocent, child-like curiosity befitting her young age to her aunt – the more outspoken of the two sisters – she merely received a smirk before a short explanation on why that was.

It was simple: The males who existed in Amazon were brought here for that purpose only. Other than menial labor – which the females could do just as well as the males, admittedly – they were simple craftsmen and workers without elegance. Or, on occasion, the males were slaves, either due to criminal behavior, conquest prize, or those who sold themselves because of poor conditions.

The hierarchy was planted inside Molpadia's young mind ever since she could understand words… yet, her curiosity simply grew, unsatisfied by Penthesilea's concise words.

Of course, none of her attendants wished to impart her with the full knowledge of the importance – or lack thereof – of males. A few special 'assistants' were brought into their lands for the sole purpose of procreation, chosen for their prized bloodline and strong body. These were mostly invitees who followed the Amazons venturing outside, attracted by their appearance, and taken back after cutting all ties to their background to live full-time here.

With the disproportionate ratio between males and females, many noblewomen shared 'studs', who from the outside looked like a harem king, but were actually lowly animals in all but name. When they realized their position, it was too late; the Amazons would continue using them until they're incapable of their duties.

Molpadia's attendants had a taste of these 'studs' on occasion, mostly as their regular bonuses as part of their jobs, rewarded by their superiors. Naturally, this task was beneath the concerns of the queen and royal princess; thus, Molpadia was mercifully spared from further exposure – but that very reason spurred her desire to explore.

At the very least, she wished to see a man as strong and perfect as her mother, who she admired greatly.

Compared to any other Amazons, including Penthesilea – though Molpadia wasn't cheeky enough to say it to her aunt's face – Hippolyta was just… _different_. Elegantly succinct, coldly fierce, but lovingly stubborn, compared to the wilder personalities of the rest. The little girl adored her mother, strived to be as good a ruler as her mother… though she could do with some more time spent near Hippolyta, who's constantly busy.

At the very least, they spent her training sessions together – her mother would watch on as the chosen instructors tried to teach the supremely talented child, whose skills had already rendered the existing curriculum moot.

Molpaida would crawl all over the place when she had the chance, exploring Amazon in its entirety: watching the male workers, observing the female warriors, and playing under her mother's low desk without disturbing any papers above. Well, Penthesilea would always find her quickly and shove her back into her well-furnished room, but lately, it'd turned into a game between her and her aunt, each trying to outlast the other in their extended game of tag.

Ah, the happy days…

Which was immediately destroyed when a scary woman arrived and started attacking her and her attendants while they're playing in the Amazonian royal palace's courtyard.

She didn't have time to scream; despite her young age, warrior training had been ingrained into her, if only the mindset of one, as her body still couldn't withstand the full Amazonian training, no matter how talented she was even compared to her mother and aunt. Knowing her body was weak, she positioned herself as far away into the enemy's blindspot as possible, so she couldn't be targeted as a hostage.

The commotion, however brief, was enough to garner the attention of all of Amazon, including Hippolyta and Penthesilea.

In her childishness, the battle which ensued actually garnered her admiration and amazement, rather than fright. The 'light show' was impressive enough she was tempted to cheer and clap, only refraining to do so out of respect to the Amazons fighting.

She didn't really understand why, but her attendants once mentioned it's 'manners', so she should follow them to be a good girl!

And then…

Just when the Amazons seemed to be in a corner, all tired and wounded, a redheaded man flickered into existence behind the scary woman from earlier, who was laughing mockingly at her mother beforehand.

A solidly-built, tall man, with a particular shade of red hair very similar to the roots near her own hair scalp, which grew into the same inky blackness of her mother's. His eyes, filled with cold fury, shined bright silver, much like the few times she was shocked when she viewed herself in the mirror or on a water's surface that her eyes changed colors for a moment.

Then the world was covered in fire, before _everyone_ disappeared, leaving the confused little girl looking left and right all alone.

* * *

Predictably, the Amazons were enamored by their new surroundings. Having lived a mostly-secular life, though not to the extent of Colchis's difficult-to-reach lands, the women rarely ventured out further than the surrounding counties or wilderness, which naturally held little difference to their usual habitat.

Barring the highest-ranked warriors and diplomat, who travelled out of necessity, this situation was common throughout the Amazons.

Penthesilea wasn't included among them, but even she was stunned at the beauty of the areas around her.

Soft grass extended as far to the horizon as she could see, though this wasn't particularly spectacular in itself, as the scent was familiar to her among Amazon's lusher cliff faces. However, what's mixed among that was unique: the fragrance of ash – not the ones leftover from wasteful products, but _meaningful_ ones – and warm steel were practically paradise for the battle-oriented Amazons.

The sky, too, was something else: instead of a static weather phenomenon, it's a mix of all possible clear views, ranging from the inky dark navy of dawn, bright contrasts of the noon sun, white clouds, and blue backdrop, the vermilion-gold grandeur of dusk, and the calming black of the night, glittered with rivers of stars and topped with a silver-red moon.

The two – ground and sky – was fantastically beautiful enough for anyone to take a break and admire them, but the third element present really brought the 'fantasy' factor into play.

Blades. Blades, all around them of various shapes, sizes, and colors, standing proud on the ground like warriors' majestic tombstones.

She had never seen such craftsmanship in her life, even the ones on the plainest blades around. Penthesilea was a top-rated warrior, endowed with excellent instincts and plentiful experience, and she knew a brilliant weapon when she saw one. She's not the type to be fooled with pretty decorations or pointless gilding, and the sight of even one of these weapons around made her ready to give away half her fortune, as well as abandoning her status, to own one.

Perhaps her sister did have a point in wanting Lord Jason's seeds, after all…

However, disregarding her usual approach, she went closer to one particular weapon which caught her interest – the ensuing battle earlier had already been put to the back of her mind, as did most Amazons around, such was how captivating the scenes around them – but was immediately stopped in her tracks when said weapon hummed dangerously.

A sword… or was it a drill? Certainly, the blade part was curiously shaped – not straight, but twisted heavily into a sharp coil. The material its made of looked like stone, though Penthesilea didn't doubt it's no ordinary stone, and was longer than it should be for practicality. In fact, despite its humble looks, it appeared more like a decorative piece than the more glamorous weapons around it.

…but the flame encasing it, like a phantasmal shroud to prevent intruders in, enticed her to walk forward.

There was_ something_ in those flames, things that were-

"Penthesilea!"

Hippolyta's worried call snapped her out of her trance, slightly jumping at the sudden slap on her shoulder.

"Snap out of it! That is not yours to wield!" Her sister urgently warned, and it took her a few seconds to truly comprehend what she's going to do, making her pale.

Taking a few deep breaths, Penthesilea smiled weakly, "Thank you, Sister… I… wasn't in my right mind."

"Watch," Hippolyta whispered, her eyes sharp in caution. "The spirit in these blades… are all stronger than us. Be wary of that."

Indeed, upon wider inspection, it seemed to be the case. The blades' spirits hovered around their legacies as guardians, and although they're not outwardly malicious, some of them detested alien contacts, and had retaliated violently once they're approached too closely. Fortunately, it seemed none of them was seriously injured, barring the mental shock from the rejection.

The one which drew Penthesilea's attention so closely… had a spirit resembling a lanky humanoid figure, taller than perhaps even Herakles, covered in metal armor so charred it might've been fused to their flesh in reality. From a slit in the helmet, a terrifyingly heavy gaze locked onto the Amazon princess, though they didn't go further.

Understanding the clue, she immediately bowed. "My apologies… for disturbing your slumber, o great one."

There was no way a blade could produce a sound mimicking a human's vocal chords, yet she felt she heard something approaching a 'yes' coming from the spirit.

Shaking her head, allowing her white bangs to sway according to the comfortable wind – not too cold, not too warm – she sat down onto the ground, or to be more precise, plopped her behind with impunity, out of exhaustion of the earlier battle.

"Lord Jason certainly is full of surprises, don't you think, Sister?" She nonchalantly asked, though Hippolyta was strangely affected by such a casual question, the tips of her ears reddening.

"Yes. It seems… he has also healed our injuries, as well. _Look_," Hippolyta extended one of her fingers, deliberately nudging a falling golden more which had rained upon the Amazons since they're transported here, "these contain powerful healing attribute, though I struggle to classify this as Magecraft. What do you think?"

The princess shrugged, showcasing the now-pristine enticing white shoulders. "A divine artifact, perhaps? Though judging from the theme around us, it's hard to believe something _other_ than blades existed here. Are we… in a different dimension?"

Hippolyta copied her sister's response, though her movements were considerably more elegant and feminine. "Perhaps. I felt this sensation once before… A Marble Phantasm, perhaps? Or a Reality Marble?"

"'_Once'_, hm?" Penthesilea hummed, suddenly feeling mischievous. "Perhaps a memory of a wonderful night, Sister?"

She leaned back immediately to avoid a backhanded slap coming from Hippolyta, whose blush now extended into her cheeks.

* * *

"Enjoying the scenery, _demon_?" I ask the captured humanoid in front of me pointedly.

Admittedly, that's just a rhetorical question, because the position I placed her in leaves no chance for her to reply back, or even move one of her fingers in the slightest.

The fact she's even conscious right now, in the bindings I craft specifically to deal with beings like her, is testament to her own strength – but most worryingly, that of her master's, Pandora.

Ars Notoria's skin and flesh are being torn apart by the minute, bit by bit, in such an excruciating fashion it seems unnatural, and more like a reality glitch disintegrating itself than a sand sculpture being blown away.

"…_▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄███████████████!"

"Eh? Sorry, what? Can't hear you…" I childishly taunt her, knowing this kind of treatment will work on the arrogant female humanoid.

I have to say, seeing her current form, changed from her previously conservative one when facing Hippolyta and Penthesilea, is quite troubling. Not only did her form-fitting, but fully-covering black robes has fallen away into black, white, and gold pieces of clothes, barely covering her female vital parts, her white headscarf was pushed out by two large buffalo-sized horns, letting her wavy black hair drop gorgeously, as befitting her attribute of [Rapture].

The fact she looks almost identical to a Buddhist nun 'Shirō Emiya' met in the future only adds to my conflict.

Truly, what is it with people and reincarnation? I certainly know of one ancestor who looks exactly like my original self, and a few others who are similar in facial features with both Mordred and Altria, but to see one in this era? In this form, just as demonic as her future incarnation?

It almost feels like someone's being lazy with the humans' creative design department…

Her voice, or lack thereof, doesn't even make it past the barrier I've set up… Or, to be more precise, the barrier itself has done enough conceptual damage to her that her auditory functions have failed.

Despite this, I know what she's going to say in reply to my taunts, which is equally hurtful to me as my words do to her.

I have failed as a father.

There is no denying it, given my status as a Heroic Vessel, who can divine others' emotions extremely well and instinctively use them to supplement my own artificial ones. Right now, the sense of mockery, guilt, anger, and hatred are flowing from her to me, beside some superficial agony from the Anti-Demon barrier constraining her.

I know it's pointless to regret something only an omniscient being could successfully accomplish. I have no idea of Molpadia's existence until Alaya reported her status to me, as Hippolyta seemed keen not to let her get into contact with me like some sort of modern drama movie. I have an inkling that's due to a particular Amazonian culture, but I have to ask them to make sure.

That said, I couldn't pat myself in the back just yet, as I still let Hippolyta, Penthesilea, and their women to get hurt, while I had silently forged a good relationship with them. In an era where political connections can be overturned in a short, blind state of rage, I sincerely hope my presence now is enough for Hippolyta, so she will maintain good relations with me.

Apparently, it's not.

Anyway, this… _being_ must die. Right now.

Logic may dictate I milk her for information – of how she found Molpadia and her connections to me, of how _Pandora_ knew that and sent her after us, of how she ambushed the little girl even with the Amazons' detection and prevention system, some of which were installed by me.

However, fortunately, Alaya is far more active in this era, perhaps due to the incredible population of inhuman beings, and thus provided me with more support. Additionally, I have no need for interrogation – her emotions have displayed to me what truly lay in her heart, including Pandora's current short-term plan.

The Heroic Vessel program is successful; therefore, Pandora will nip it at the bud.

One of Alaya's stroke of brilliance was to allow us to retain our humanity, not just spiritually, but also physically, letting us procreate and spread our genes in hope to breed suitable vessels for our next missions further down the line. Yes, it will mean I'll be reincarnating into my own descendants and potentially overriding their souls irresponsibly, but Alaya's taken care of that – any suitable vessel will be empty, ready for deployment for any Heroic Vessel, and the soul-to-be will instead be used for another individual.

No waste, no chance of failure or rejection. Clean and precise.

Molpadia is the first one to be born in this era. Perhaps she won't inherit my powers – us Heroic Vessels are conceptually too different for any humans to receive our skills willy-nilly – but her descendants may. Pandora is aiming for this, because of a certain hint not even Ars Notoria realize.

She's playing the long game, just like Alaya and Gaia are. Her demons are short-sighted, aiming to please their master in a shorter time frame; thus, any information gleamed from them will be incomplete, or at worst, inaccurate. While they're no good beings, they're incredibly loyal to Pandora – who's to say she's telling _them_ the whole truth?

That's just logically nonsense, which is why I'm moving on with the execution.

* * *

Trace, on.  
TYPE Input → Sword  
Processing mana at A+-level…  
Reality Marble ACTIVE  
ENGAGE Phantasm, Full Cowl

**Tenka-Goken  
**_~ Five Swords under Heaven ~_

* * *

"…_▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄███████████████!"

She screams sweetly once again, as I pump out the output of this Noble Phantasm-based barrier.

Five masterfully-crafted swords – I dare say even I can't do better with my bare hands without Magecraft – surround her in a tight circle. Well, they're more 'piercing' her in place, rather than encircling her without contact, as her four limbs and the center of her chest – where a large demonic eye resides – are crucified by these blades.

In their history, how many demonic blood have they drunk? It's enough to completely force the Japanese yōkais under threat to move _en masse_ to the Reverse Side of the World, such was the scale of the massacre and hunts which happened. Among them were onis, the epitome of [Demon] in Japanese folklore, though popular opinion didn't help their reputations, either.

These five blades, wielded by master swordsmen and swordswomen, slayed them all like cutting grass. Individually, perhaps they're no match for a piece of Pandora's flesh itself in the form of Ars Notoria, but together? Much like Gān Jiàng and Mò Yé, their effects _multiplied_ when used as a set.

It's been a pet project of mine recently. Given the high cost of Tracing defensive armaments from Unlimited Blade Works, despite my current strength, I'm trying to use the blades themselves as cornerstones for original Bounded Fields of various effects, instead of just Tracing a well-established one at a great cost and bad efficiency. Like the 12 weapons of Charlemagne's Paladins which I've used plenty, this setup is specifically [Anti-Demon], just for beings like her.

"▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄███████████████!"

The barrier slowly, deliciously, shaves off her existence layer by layer. I don't intentionally lengthen this process; her Conceptual Weight is just that massive. Like most transcendent beings, for someone like her, the concept of [Death] takes its time to complete its hold.

I have to admit, though, hearing the screams of those who harm the people precious to me – notwithstanding my rather aloof relationship with Hippolyta – feels quite good.

'_Ah… Calm down, calm down. There's no need to get excited this soon.'_

The rush of emotions can sometimes be overwhelming, to the point of forcing me off-character. The man Atalanta loves is the one closest to my true nature, while right now… Maybe I'm a bit too carried away under Notoria's influence?

Her [Rapture] never reached me, because I never needed to _look _at her from the start, within Unlimited Blade Works. I can even feel the Amazons' condition in real-time, with the sprinkling of a Broken Avalon – slightly downgraded than the original – healing them as we speak.

"██████████▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄_..."

As her existence weakens, I inhale a few deep breaths. The rush here to save the Amazons, plus the rushed deployment of Unlimited Blade Works, plus the exertion of Tracing five legendary swords and having the mental capacity to modify them to suit the barrier's needs… all of them take quite a toll upon me, though I still feel fit enough to battle another one of Pandora's five tomes.

* * *

All her life, Hippolyta was taught the one most important thing: control.

No matter if she's a woman or a man; whether she's a peasant or a queen; whether she's a warrior or a laywoman… she must never lose control. Any emotions were acceptable, all positives and negatives and everything in between, but losing control over them was heavily frowned by her tutors and her deceased mother.

Therefore, when faced with the one man who could consistently make her slip off this slippery slope… she chose to hide behind her little sister.

It's not a glorious or proud move, but for the sake of the Amazons' dignity, she must retreat, instead of pressing forward.

At least, that's how she rationalized her decision, with her entire face burning red, behind the sighing Penthesilea.

Clicking her tongue, the princess ruthlessly pushed her older sister forwards, letting her stumble towards the sitting redhead.

A myriad of thoughts flashed through Hippolyta's mind, mostly pertaining to what she should say… and how did she look now? Was she pretty enough? Was she tidy enough? Did she smell? What if giving birth to Molpadia had fattened her gut? What…

\- Smack!

A hard slap from Penthesilea momentarily restored her into a proper Amazonian Queen, though not for long.

'_Deep breaths… deep breaths…'_

"Lord Jason… We thank you for your assistance!" Hippolyta managed to squeeze out, but much more stiffly than she intended.

Penthesilea agreed, which was why she took over from her sister's currently-useless state.

The redheaded man didn't change his appearance much from the last time the two sisters saw him, which was in that fateful night when Molpadia was conceived, bar perhaps being slightly taller and more muscular. Currently, he was sitting down, leaning back on a particularly wide broadsword – which actually looked more like a large metal slab than any actual, functional weapon.

The exertion from the battle was clear. Even the Amazons, who lacked talent in Magecraft, could feel the heavy remains of magic energy floating around. Jason – no, _Shirō_ – was slightly pale, though apart from a few streams of sweat, didn't look too exhausted.

He slowly opened his eyes, as if his mind was in another place before their arrival.

Looking up, he smiled with his customary friendly expression, one which most definitely would short-circuit her older sister's head right now, Penthesilea mused. "It's of no concern. I received word of the danger about to befall you; therefore, I rushed here."

There was little doubt his words were replayed over and over again in the wrong manner inside Hippolyta's head, judging from how hard she's squeezing Penthesilea's rear-side robe. Sighing internally, the white-haired princess put on a dignified, but grateful expression. "Naturally, we cannot accept that. Please, at least formally, receive our gratitude. I shall represent my sister and my people."

She leaned forward, much faster than Hippolyta could react, and kissed Shirō on the forehead – a casual expression of a blessing in this era. Her act did reveal Hippolyta's currently-shameless face, though, red with both surprise and jealousy.

"Your Highness, are you alright? Did her curse take a hold on you?" Shirō asked, concerned, though Penthesilea was sure he knew _exactly_ what's going on with her older sister at the moment to ask that question. As predicted, Hippolyta's brain seemed to have come to a halt, much to the younger Amazon's irritation.

This brazen man… Having tormented her sister so – intentionally or not – he still had the gall to play with her feelings like this?

She bent down, forcing her face to cover his entire field of view, not caring in the slightest what Hippolyta might think. The man realized his folly, offering an apologetic smile, continuing, "I have cast healing Magecraft on all of you… and the little girl outside was safe. I didn't bring her here out of fear of collateral damage, you see."

Just his earlier sentence was good enough for the white-haired princess to let him go, but the latter…

'_He… truly doesn't know of Molpadia's existence?'_

That certainly wasn't expected. Penthesilea had thought it to be suspicious on how good the timing of his arrival was – his excuse of hearing some 'news' of their plight clearly wasn't good enough for the keen Amazon. Oh, she knew of his reputation and ability to receive 'prophecies', certainly, but to know of an ambush enacted by a demonic creature of such strength? She highly doubted it at first, though she tucked her suspicions away in place of genuine gratitude.

They would _die_ if he didn't come. That fact was easy to infer and digest.

But now… he also claimed he didn't know of Molpadia's true identity? Following her earlier train of thought, she was certain he was alarmed of this situation through her blood connection to him; thus, he desperately rushed here knowing that. Surely, this theory wasn't impossible?

However, there's more important things to do now other than doubting her savior. She knew her place, after all, and Ancient Greece was particularly strict about blood debts and promises. Failure to honor them would place heavy curses upon her, or the entire Amazon tribe.

If only her older sister wasn't so useless at times like this…

"We are grateful of your consideration. Perhaps… you can bring us back now, Lord Jason? The enemy is gone, after all."

"Please, call me 'Shirō', like your sister. We aren't in a formal situation, and this is spoken among friends, isn't it?" He suggested, before their entire surroundings began to dissipate into glowing embers, dropping them back into the courtyard where they battled earlier.

Before Penthesilea could say anything else, a high-pitched childish voice called out from behind them.

"MOTHER!" Molpadia rushed among the confused Amazonian crowd, her black sidetail bouncing up and down in joy. "M-Mother! I'm so happy you're… A-Ah, Aunt! I-I am happy you are safe, t-too!"

Somehow, her tone ticked Penthesilea off.

"Now, listen here, you brat…!"

* * *

As per the norm, the battle's end was celebrated by a nation-wide party. Despite the Amazons describing themselves as a 'tribe', their size and power had grown to a point where it's more appropriate to call them a kingdom of their own. Heck, their leader was addressed 'queen', though they never officially renamed themselves to the outside world.

I never am one for this kind of crowd, though I can socially blend into one if necessary. Unlimited Blade Works' true nature required extreme focus, and I usually find it in isolation, either in the forge or the kitchen. It's even more apparent now when I'm with Atalanta, who also is a quiet individual unless provoked.

"Alone as always, hm…?" A soothing female voice calls out from my side, to which I can only reply with a silent smirk.

Lightly bowing, I greet, "Hera."

She chuckles motherly, saying quickly, "Dispense of your formalities, my son. How many times do I have to tell you of this? Surely, there is no need for a direct order from this patron goddess of yours?"

I shrug, changing the topic. "To what do I owe the pleasure? You even took the troubles of appearing publicly like this."

To be more precise, my location is rather private, having found a particularly comfortable nook in the Amazonian royal palace to silently sip on their gorgeously smooth wine. Perhaps this incentivized her to appear to me right now, as Olympians can't just come and go in this mortal plane freely.

As the Age of Gods decline, there exists a palpable barrier between the deities and normal humans, as a result of the former using the latter's worship as a source of power. The universe decrees so to prevent one side from influencing the other too much; therefore, Hera's descent right here should've enacted quite a burden on her.

This restrain is in place mostly to prevent any _makhia _to ravage the world and consuming countless innocents, though it wasn't particularly effective during the last one. It strengthened over each successive generation of pantheons – from the Protogenoi, the Titans, to the current Olympians – with each preceding group forced to migrate to the Reverse Side of the World, as the universe's [Rejection] of them became too much, especially after losing the wars with their successors.

That is the way the universe keeps itself balanced; as the value of human lives lowers, their rulers must be weakened in turn. It wasn't long after my dear Gilgamesh's reign, where ordinary humans could reach a deity's Conceptual Weight, showcasing an alarming rate of decline the Olympians are desperate to hold back.

Perhaps this, too, is an angle Pandora is working on? Hmm… food for thought, there.

I glance at the Queen of the Gods, admiring her mature, motherly beauty. She's not as naturally attractive as other goddesses, with the most common examples being her daughters, sisters, and nieces, but there's a certain homely charm to her presence which soothes both men and women, endearing her into their hearts. And, most importantly, that's stemming from her true nature – the honesty of [Marriage] and [Family], two of her Authorities – coming forth, instead of being an artificial, forced mask.

Her long, knee-length blonde hair was just as unkempt and naturally wavy as I last remembered, though at least her palace servants did a good job in fixing up her white-and-red robe and dress. Right now, she's not wearing her tall, spindly golden crown, revealing several strands sticking up her supposedly-prim head.

"I simply heard of your upcoming marriage, and thought to bless you before the ceremony," she kindly said. "But here I am, hearing of the presence of your bastard child."

"Hera…!"

She forces a palm upon my chest, stopping my rebuke. "It's simply a figure of speech, my boy. I _know_ you – and you are _not_ Zeus. I have no doubt that girl will grow up as magnificent a human being as you are." A tinge of sadness enters her eyes. "However, I do implore you to treasure her and her mother's existence, even if you hold less affections towards them. No matter what, they are _family_…"

"And family is the most important thing in the world," I repeat her usual mantra, earning me a smooth pat to the head. It's rather awkward, given my height which towers over her, but I sense she often does this to Zeus, too, who is even taller and bulkier than me. "I understand, Hera."

"Good. Then let me bless you."

A kiss on the forehead later, and my body quietly glows among the torches in the night, before dimming soon after.

A deity's blessing can be a double-edged sword, admittedly. Both [Blessing] and [Curse] share one parent attribute, before it's broken down into the two, like two sides of the same gold coin. It can both boost a person's physical abilities and social status tremendously and bind them to death upon betrayal with the same wording, all because of the differing Conceptual Weight between a deity and a human.

Of course, I'm less affected due to my true nature as a Heroic Vessel, one which Hera doesn't know of… yet. I'm sure Athena has already suspected something, and that woman is particularly – and frighteningly – intelligent when she's not distracted by her own bottled-up emotions. From her dialogue a few weeks ago, she already suspected Alaya's mechanisms were at play, though precise divination of my job here still alluded her, mostly due to Alaya's work.

"Artemis is very excited. I heard she's been pestering the other gods lately, boasting how _her_ Atalanta is getting married to you," Hera informs me with an impish smile. "This should be the first time she's granting an official marriage blessing to one of hers, correct? Even Orion is starting to get overwhelmed."

The image of that perverted bear plushie being troubled does bring a smile to my face. Perhaps the wine is getting to me?

Given Amazon's relatively arid weather, grapes grow for longer here in lesser quantities, as well as being in close proximity to the sea's saline air. Their undulating territory, with plenty of small- to medium-sized cliffs, eases irrigation, though the soil quality can only be considered average.

As a result, the wine produced here has a unique taste, especially as the modern production method of using Magecraft to assist in its creation is frowned upon here. The Amazon's wine tastes surprisingly smooth for how earthy it smells, which goes better with light meals the women here preferred.

As for the men? Well… the less I speak of their state, the better. Even now, I garner heavy jealousy from the males employed here, being the only man of high standing in this palace. Naturally, they don't know of my relationship with Hippolyta or Molpadia, only seeing me as a good friend and hero for their queen and princess. Though the Amazons don't mistreat them horribly, their status is still no better than slaves at worst, and low-level workers at best, with the corresponding lesser rights granted to them.

For instance, even drinking this wine is punishable by law, barring exceptional circumstances.

Hera, too, feels their gaze, though the ones directed towards her are far more respectful and admiring than those towards me. "Do not mind them. No one can touch you; not with my presence here."

Her words are mostly futile. She knows my ability well, both on the battlefield and in the political court. However, they are spoken with nothing but care and worry in them; therefore, I cannot just brush that aside.

"Thank you, o' goddess."

"Uncle Shirō!"

An adorable pitter-patter walks this way, revealing itself to be a rushing Molpadia, the red usually hidden among her dark hair more visible under the torches' light, with her sole sidetail bouncing alongside her steps.

She launches herself at me, babbling about the party.

"You should see the fire show! They're eating fire and breathing them out! Doesn't oil taste bad? I've tasted it before, and it's bbblllleeeeeerrrrrrrggggggghhhhhh…!" She makes a disgusted face, before continuing, "Oh! Is that wine? Can I have some? Please? Pretty please? I'll be a good girl, I promise!"

Her fast dialogue slightly catches me off-guard, adding to the awkwardness of her form of address towards me.

''_Uncle?' Really, Hippolyta?'_ I grimace inwardly. Well, that's what I get from being absent in her life, I guess…

Wait, that's not even my fault, is it? I still wonder why exactly Hippolyta slept with me that night, got pregnant, and not telling me a thing. If she did care about me as a man, then… No, did she not love me in the first place? Did she view me just like these men here, just as a procreation tool?

"Molpadia! Don't you run!" The queen's stern voice, though not particularly loud, still makes the little girl in my arms wince. "Come here, you little… G-Goddess Hera!"

Upon seeing who I'm with, the black-haired woman immediately kneels on one knee. It only lasts for a few seconds, though, before she looks up, quickly snatches Molpadia from me, and forces her to kneel alongside her as well.

"F-Forgive this child's foolishness! W-We have no idea of y-your esteemed presence…!" She shoots the small girl an angry glare, making her whimper, "Not only you interrupt someone else's conversation, you didn't even greet the Queen of the Gods properly?! What is this?!"

"Now, now, calm down, Queen Hippolyta," Hera gently chides, bending down to pick Molpadia up into her hug. "Is your mother scary? Do you hate her?"

Despite the small pools of tears welling up in the corners of her eyes, she shakes her head. "I-I'm sorry… I was wrong… Uuu… S-She's not usually like this…"

The goddess pats her soft hair eagerly, seemingly moved by her cuteness. "That's a fine answer, little girl. You may rise, Hippolyta; I am here not for official reasons, therefore, do not punish this child."

"U-Understood," the woman stiffly replies, her gaze moving back and forth between the three of eyes, a myriad of emotions flashing through her eyes.

Hera sends me a silent glare. _'You didn't tell her, did you?'_

I discreetly shake my head.

What Hera means is my reluctance to reveal myself as the girl's father. As a matter of fact, I didn't mention how I knew of Molpadia's existence to Hippolyta at all, declaring my arrival as a result of my 'prophecy' and defending them from Ars Notoria. They – especially Hippolyta – didn't know it's due to Alaya's warning through my blood connection with the little girl which sent me here in the first place.

Being a goddess with eyes and ears everywhere – more than the Amazons, at least – Hera has quickly deduced the situation, though not to the extent of Alaya's intervention. She's certainly thinking I abused the 'prophecy' excuse while utilizing my karmic connection with my daughter to come here.

Really, deploying multiple layers of deception is quite tiring. Still, that's the burden of a Heroic Vessel, I suppose.

"Then, will you accompany Auntie for some food? I'm sure they have a lot of sweets lying around here, hidden from your reach!"

The word 'sweets' certainly works its magic "S-Sweets?! Yes, Auntie, take me to them!"

With a chuckle, the goddess excuses herself from us – Hippolyta and me – and goes off somewhere.

After they're gone, Hippolyta's demeanor suddenly goes bashful and nervous, looking at everywhere but me.

"Cute kid," I compliment her, which stiffens her shoulders. "Her father must've been very special for you to choose him."

I opt to continue my farce. For better or for worse, this is Hippolyta's decision, which she held firm for several years already. I have to respect that, at least as fellow warriors, if not as Molpadia's actual father. What do I have to gain by mentioning this fact to her? Ruin her already-happy life? I'm not going to do that.

Penthesilea is both sharper and more emotionally disconnected with me, compared to her older sister. That's why I guess she already suspects my ploy is already in place, though she can't quite place her suspicion into a concrete case. Rather than confirming her theory, I'll rather play up to Hippolyta's ruse.

Besides, I have a marriage to attend in the next few days. How can I do _that_ to Atalanta? It won't be fair at all…

"Yes… he is," the queen softly admits, all her usual bravado and calm in front of her subjects having disappeared. "You know me well; I will only choose the best possible mate for Molpadia's sake."

"I can't fault you there," I go along with her words, shrugging my shoulders in agreement. "Do you think… when she grows up, I can train her? I can see plenty of potential in her."

"…!"

Well, that seems to have frozen her completely this time.

The face which is oh-so-familiar is held with lips ajar, shocked at the various undertones I've just put out.

I may not be able to enter their family normally, but I care for the two of them. I love Hippolyta, perhaps not completely as a woman, but at least as a close confidant, and Molpadia's friendliness and cheerfulness – both conspicuously absent from both her mother's and aunt's usual behavior – earns my interest. At the very least, if not as a father, I can teach her various things as a proper master.

Normally, this Amazonian Queen is a notoriously difficult partner to negotiate with. The Amazons' culture and way of thinking is very different to normal Greek kingdoms; thus, many diplomats fear for their lives in these political talks, because the heads of their predecessors line the local cemetery neatly precisely because of offending this reason. Naturally, this woman in front of me is very well-educated and experienced in leading a nation, and have a poker face suitable for the job.

It's a shame her heart, if one can find a hole in it, is weaker than either Altria or Mordred, whose face she resembles so much… much to my painful grimace at times.

Therefore, her expression is very easy for me to read right now, especially since I've been sneaking in glances with my Pure Eyes whenever I blink or close my eyes for slightly longer.

The gears are moving in her head visibly, weighing the positives and negatives of my proposition in an instant. I don't know whether she realizes she's so easy to read right now or not, but to her credit, it takes her only several seconds to reply.

Diplomatically, of course, befitting someone of her stature.

"That will be lovely. I shall monitor her in the next few years; if she doesn't shame me, then I shall allow it to happen," she politely agrees, intentionally putting some distance between us. "His _father_ certainly won't mind…"

I feign ignorance at the emphasized word, bowing lightly in gratitude.

Slowly giving out my hand, I invite her back to the main party place, taking a couple of glasses of wine for the two of us on the way back. I can only imagine it's more awkward for her than myself, who's taking control of the situation, so I try my best not to push her too far. Like I said, I do care for her, as I repeatedly chant in my heart not to view her position too pragmatically.

Along the way, as we chat, she finally drops the sentence I've been looking for all day.

The wine may have a helping hand in it, though.

"I hear you are getting married soon, Lord Jason? With Lady Atalanta of Arcadia? I received your invitation, though I must admit I haven't read the specifics yet."

"I am blessed with her willingness to accept this one as her husband," I politely answer, trying to make the conversation more casual. For _her_ sake, not mine. "It will be our pleasure if you and your family can attend."

"Already trying to place the Amazons on your back? Is it because of your uncle's recent… aggressions?"

I smile shiftily. "You certainly have sharp ears."

"_Penthesilea_ does, not me. I heard it from her."

Shaking my head, I reply, "It's merely an unfortunate side effect, but that's a viewpoint I expect a layman to have, not from you… Hippolyta."

She pinches my side, lightly glaring. "As this is a public event, please address me accordingly, _Lord_ Jason."

"I understand," I reply, playfully wincing from the pain. Well, suit yourself. "But I sincerely invited all of you because you are my close friends, and you are important to me. Will you do that? I do not even need you to come in an official capacity; just two women and a little girl who happens to know me. That's enough."

After several long seconds, interrupted by sipping her wine intermittently, Hippolyta finally nods.

"Very well. Do await our presence."

When I want to walk forward, I feel a strong tug holding back my arm.

"I have not blessed you yet, have I?" The black-haired woman smirks beatifically, filled with intentions I'm not sure of. "Come here."

Thus comes my second kiss of the day… on the forehead, of course.

* * *

**Glossary Update!**

* * *

**T**

**Tenka-Goken: Five Swords under Heaven**  
** Rank: EX**  
** Type: Anti-Demon, Anti-Army**  
** Range: 50**  
** Max. Targets: 200**

A set of five swords made in Japan, all famed for having bathed in demonic blood at some point in their lives. Despite them being created at different points in history, Japan's own constant flirting with the mythical world meant they were compatible with each other when used in a ritual together… not that anyone's ever tried to do so. In the modern era, three of them were National Treasures, kept under the watch of the ruling family across the archipelago; one of them was an Imperial Property, enshrined at a secret location in the Royal Palace; the last one was a holy relic of Nichiren Buddhism.

Dōjigiri. Onimaru. Mikazuki. Ōdenta. Juzumaru. Born with different size, weight, and function, as well as through seemingly unrelated group of five pairs of hands, their shared experience somehow called out for each other when utilized as a group. Individually, each wasn't lower than B-Ranked, but this was merely due to having improper owners and users. In the right hands, their Mystery might yet deepen, achieving a level never before seen by a mortal.


	15. Percy & Andy's Fun-Fun Adventures! (II)

**Hello again, everyone! Having planned and wrote this semi-omake chapter previously, I knocked this out pretty fast for you guys - perhaps _too_ fast for my own liking. However, I'm satisfied with its quality, and I'm sure some of you were wondering of the continuation of that last semi-omake I did, because the chapter's title has the suffix (I) in it.  
**

**There's a considerable info dump in the Glossary Update below, just to assist in the world building around this story. As always, it's derived from historical and actual FGO canon, so some details may differ because it's my own take on it. Also, some of the review replies below in the mailbag also contains some important information. Do tell me what you think of them... and enjoy!**

**A _very _hefty mailbag:  
Hero of Justice Roxas**: **If they're just thoughts, then yes, I've drafted several stories to accommodate them. I don't think I'll act on them real soon, however; I want to focus on this series first. Crossovers will come later.  
YuukiAsuna-Chan & Mythic Imagination: ****I mean... have you seen the chapter title? That's directed not just to the characters inside the story, but also to you as well! Hahaha!  
AznPuffyHair: ****I'm glad you noticed Avalon. Regarding the 'drill sword', its owner did appear in HV-S01. I think I described it well enough to differentiate it from the other 'drill sword' whose owner you're expecting, didn't I? Thank you for the praise for the Amazons' characterization. I won't go into too much detail regarding my plans for their immediate future and development, though I guarantee you won't expect whom Molpadia will grow into in the future! Hera's appearance was inspired by one of FGO's latest PV, which miguelgiuliano (a fellow reader like you) suggested to me. Once I did my research, I found the dev team did informally call the released line-up to be from Ancient Greece, and the young woman in the middle as 'Hera'. So I based this character on that. The HVs' offsprings will mostly feature in the epilogues at the end of the stories. I don't think I'll write a full story involving them in the near future too. Yes, this version of UBW does contain the canon weapons of this era. Like I implied previously, this isn't the first time SHIROU has been in Ancient Greece, and how surprised he was when he figured out where, when, and who around him he's dealing with.  
Daggerxxx: ****Speaking from personal experience, there? Joking aside, I did say I intend to write the story according to the outdated and twisted morality of Ancient Greece. If you see something else which is jarring and unsuited for those times, do let me know. I want to stay as 'authentic' as possible.  
Lost Stardust1: ****The philosophers will be placed slightly later than Achilles's era, which means two generations after this one. I won't write too much about them; maybe just some passing mention as side characters.**  
**'Guest'**: I'm inspired by the Dark Souls series greatly, and it was indeed the Soul of Cinder. However, I won't answer the question about SHIROU's past experience in other universes, because I'm not prepared to speak of plans so far in the future I'm not even sure I can do.****

****Disclaimer: Large parts of the poem appearing in this chapter belongs to Robert Lindley. I wrote the rest.****

* * *

"Uuggghhh… Y-Yuuuccckkk…" Erytheia sulked, bending her body repeatedly to try to vomit out the contents of her stomach. Alas, it's already empty after prior vomiting sessions, having gone through what she's experienced with her party members.

Her golden hair was dirtied with a multitude of fluids of several colors, mostly bright and alluring… signifying the poison contained in them to warn potential natural predators away. Obviously, they're the remains of whatever slimes she and her group killed for their current quest, which actually paid quite handsomely for such demeaning work.

But this was the life of E-Rankers. No glorious quests, no thrilling battles – the Guild essentially simply told them off to suck it up.

"E-Eeewww…" Aigle, her older sister, tried to smear away the slimes' remains from her chest, but only ended up covering her hands with the sticky fluid. "D-Disgusting…"

Perseus chimed in. "I agree… Oh, dear… Normally, these kinds of sight should be just as enticing as those written in books, especially on you beautiful girls… But I just lost appetite right now…"

Andromeda chided, her body unusually clean from her teammates' fate. "Your flirting skills haven't improved, I see. You should be more careful; many other girls weren't as welcoming as we are."

Having researched beforehand, the Ethiopian princess actually bought an estoc for the job. She tried to convince her teammates to follow suit, but since they'd already had their own bronze blades – short, long, and some blunt weapons – they were reluctant. Seeing their reaction, she simply shrugged, feeling they'd get their own medicine later.

Which ended up being true.

Slimes had marble-sized hard cores inside, which they could move around easily. If it's crushed into oblivion, then their bodies would simply liquefy and stick everywhere – a defense mechanism so the others in their pack could escape the struggling predators. The estoc, with its needle-like point, quickly deactivated this feature by poking through the core, instead of destroying it, maintaining the relatively rounded shape of the slimes' corpse, which was more valuable.

Thinking about it logically, perhaps the increased pay if they brought the complete corpse back to the Guild was because it, too, disliked dealing with the sticky remains? The latter could still be processed, sure, but just thinking of it made Andromeda's skin crawl. That said, the powdered gelatinous substance was great to thicken soups and stocks, because it's flavorless and odorless – after the poison's been filtered out, obviously.

The whole corpse, meanwhile, firmed up into slice-able dough-shaped materials. A recipe even specified these to be cut thinly into noodles – a delicacy from the Far East, even beyond Persia – as good substitute for starch. It's even dry-able and carried in expeditions, with just a cup of hot water needed to re-hydrate it!

The Ethiopian princess abruptly looked away, trying to redirect the growl of her stomach somewhere away from her struggling teammates, as she imagined the warm noodle soup awaiting her at a stall near the Guild.

"I-I don't think that's t-the important thing here…! Bath; bath!" Hesperia stammered out, much more forcefully than her usual self. "L-Let's just leave already…!"

Andromeda, as the party leader, checked the contents of the scroll in her possession.

"We're still a few dozen short."

"Nnnoooooooooooooooooooo…!" Her four other teammates groaned altogether.

"Do your best."

* * *

Their subsequent time at the inn was filled with occasional lamentations and curses, as four of them – bar Andromeda, of course – struggled to clean themselves from the slimes' remains.

The poison, thankfully, wasn't an issue, as they'd already consumed the antidote beforehand. Furthermore, skin contact wouldn't exactly fatal – perhaps only creating some rashes – compared to actual digestion, so that's not a huge problem for them. Truly, a monster type befitting E-Ranked Adventurers – more annoying than dangerous. Even its poison could at most cause massive indigestion and dehydration, no more.

Perseus, being a man, finished up the quickest, and he plopped down on his bed with a large exhale of breath.

Across him was Andromeda's bed, whose owner was calmly reading up several monster encyclopedias she borrowed from the Guild's library, as well as copies of other requests from the Guild's mission board. She was as impeccable as ever, completely unlike her flustered self when she was in Sir Shirō's presence.

He grunted, not used to spending time alone with her. "You… should rest. You took care of most of the slimes, anyway."

She looked up, surprised he decided to strike a conversation. "…that's awfully sweet of you."

"Bah, stop teasing me," he scoffed, ruffling his hair with a towel to dry it. "I hate to admit it, but we should've gone with your suggestion. If by the next quest you're sick, then… maybe some of us would've actually gotten hurt, if not more."

He then shifted his attention to re-arranging his gear, which were mostly cast bronze and forged low-quality steel – ones he took on to avoid attracting attention. Sir Shirō _did_ give him some replacement weapons for the divine gifts he's given, but those were more suited for adventurers B-Ranked and above. There's no telling what'd happen if he walked around with a full armament of those weapons… or to his teammates.

Much as he loathed to admit it, he did care for them, at least until he could go independent. There's still so much experience he could learn out there, and doing it with more people guaranteed his safety. If he had to use them as meat shields, then he would – but until then, _no one_ would harm them.

If there's any reason they'd get hurt, then let it be him, and he alone.

The gods who lent him those weapons were unnaturally nonchalant regarding the status of those 'Noble Phantasms', though. Perhaps Sir Shirō's influence expanded more than just Mycenaean Greece, even until Mount Olympus itself? As a matter of fact, only Athena addressed him directly, with Zeus and Hades being conspicuously absent. Their Divine Essences were there, yes, but not the gods themselves.

However, considering Lady Athena's words… he dreaded what would happen if they _were _there. If what she did was considered 'mercy', then…

In his thoughts, he missed the faint glints in Andromeda's eyes, which flitted every so often towards him.

She had to admit, he was her best teammate, compared to the nymph triplets. It seemed the gods weren't _fully_ blind when they chose him to wield those 'Noble Phantasms' – he did have a measure of talent. His judgement in combat, though still stiff and too straightforward sometimes, was generally decent, much more than the triplets with their often clashing personalities.

Aigle was too careless. Erytheia was too arrogant. Hesperia was too timid.

Perseus was the right combination of their strength… and also their weakness. That's the sole remaining thing which made the girls dislike him, including Andromeda – though in her case, she liked to think hers wasn't to the others' extreme.

Perhaps, in some ways… she's starting to like him?

Well, if she placed herself through someone else's viewpoint – which she often did to clear her thoughts – he's not a bad catch at all… if he kept his mouth shut. There's plenty of women who liked their men slightly sullen and temperamental. His looks could be considered handsome, with the rough edges often found in those living near the coast as fishermen only complimenting his manliness. His skills, too, were nearer those of C-Rank than his current rank – after all, he did exchange _one_ blow against an S-Ranker and lived to tell the tale. No E-Rankers could manage that, given how serious Sir Shirō looke dback then.

Before she could consolidate her thoughts, the noisy triplets – well, except for Hesperia's quiet whimpers – came out of the bathroom. _'Must be nice,'_ Andromeda thought, _'to have sisters who could take care of each other…'_

Like most royalties, she had… sibling issues. Ethiopia was more of a meritocracy, but still, her older siblings were favored, and not due to their martial prowess or political skill. In the relatively simple government it adopted, there's plenty of chances for corruption to occur in Ethiopia… which she summarily decided not to take part in, throw it away when she came of age, and come to Greece with nothing but the clothes on her back.

The journey was thankfully smoother than she feared. After all, a fair, dusky maiden like her – she's quite proud of her looks, despite how she acted – could attract unwanted attention. Instead, her information broker had been spot on regarding who's respectable and who's not, allowing her to honestly work with her own strengths to earn spending money in order to make her way to this place, right here and now.

"Perseus! You haven't been flirting with Andromeda again, haven't you?!" Aigle teased, clearly far too relaxed after a good, long hot bath.

"Stop speaking stupid things like usual. Do you think I'd sit here, unharmed, if I tried? Use your eyes, birdbrain," he spat out, glaring at the chipper blonde. "Also, don't roll around the bed when you're still damp! It'll stink and humidify tomorrow…!"

"For once, I agree with him, Sister," Erytheia affirmed, much to his surprise. "Though that's only because you dump your laundries to me, lazybones."

"Muuu… T-They're bullying me, Hesperia! Hheeeeeelllpppppp…!" Aigle draped her still-wet body onto her youngest sister, who's flustered at the sudden hug.

"Mmffgghhh…!" Her protests were muffled by the towel wrapped around Aigle's slim chest, making it loosen dangerously in place.

"Perseus…"

At Andromeda's quick suggestion, he sighed. "Yeah, I know, I know. I mean… is that even my fault this idiot's acting like this?"

Knowing the girls would soon dress up, he trudged into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Erytheia's loud voice did make it through, saying, "Sorry 'bout that, boy! I'll let you see Hesperia's tits next time!"

"SISTER…!"

The shout, laughter, and subsequent scuffle accompanied Perseus's silent mulling at the edge of the bathtub.

* * *

After the frankly disgusting last quest, Andromeda, wisely, chose a more… _normal _mission this time…

…which ended up being library cleaning.

"AAAATTTTTTCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

That's not the first time Erytheia sneezed loudly and rudely, completely destroying the 'lady' image she's hard at work to cultivate. Adventurers usually had their own personal gimmicks, which would become their official aliases when they achieved sufficient status. For instance, Atalanta the Fleet-foot Huntress, the 'Master' Chiron, or 'Raging Destroyer' Herakles.

She dreamed to be called the 'White Queen', 'White Dragon', 'White Lady'…

What? It's not her fault she loved the color of her own hair… which was white, of course.

She prided herself on it because it's such a rare color. Nymphs were mostly similar in appearance to human to entice men into their fold and procreate, continuing their lineage. Therefore, most of them had 'regular' hair color: black, brown, blonde, and so on. While her sisters' particular shades were considerably beautiful – that she'd admit, because she loved them dearly – hers was very striking.

She often admired several errant strands shining under the light – of how ethereal and holy they were, of how they matched her own pristine and pure personality…

Ahem.

Therefore, she disliked the dust clogging her air channels and tickling her senses dirtying her hair. As well as her skin, her clothes, her eyes… basically, she hated getting dirty.

Oh, a large part of her mind knew being an adventurer meant a clean state was unlikely. Even simple acts like bathing or excreting were often done outdoors in completely unhygienic environments, where perverts like Perseus – or how she viewed him initially – roaming about. That, she hated with extreme prejudice. However, to earn money and fame, she could stomach it.

But being dirtied while doing this kind of menial work? Not to sound arrogant, but she truly believed she – and to an extent, her sisters – deserved better. If, somehow, she ended up being covered in a Divine Beast's innards during a glorious and challenging hunt, then that's great… but not _this_!

The piece of cloth she wore around her nose and mouth were simple repurposed handkerchiefs bought from a nearby garage sale. That's what she loved about Andromeda – her foresight, her meticulous preparation, and her bravery to challenge any arguments her party members brought up with logical, almost ridiculously simple, sense. However, the damp cloth could only do so much, and was already clogged up after a few hours of working.

Seriously, why didn't anyone frequent this place more?! Its entry was very cheap, and the scrolls and tomes here – while robust and simple in their appearance – had the same contents as the expensive and gilded ones stored preciously in nobles' mansions. If there's more bookworms out there, using and taking out and circulating these educational materials, then very little dust would accumulate like this.

The silence in this place merely added to her frustration, letting her mind wander and blame every single individual she could think of. The library management, city council, normal people, nobles, royalties, Perseus…

"Hm? Sorry, were you cleaning? I'll move out of the way…" A smooth, bell-like female voice excused herself from Erytheia's vigorous sweeps and mops, snapping the white-haired nymph from her stupor.

"N-No, it's fine…! I'm just distracted, that's all…" The embarrassment of being caught off-guard made her voice tremble lightly, not helped at all by the muffling effect the cloth she's wearing. "Please conti-"

For the first time in her life, she was mesmerized by another woman's beauty.

Oh, she's seen her fair share of delicate, pretty women. After all, nymphs were a race famous for their alluring appearance and voice, similar to their close relatives, the mermaids. Andromeda had an exotic, rare bronze complexion, often making that idiot Perseus make even more idiotic faces – He thought she's not looking! – and her sisters were great beauties themselves.

But this one… was honestly the most beautiful person she's ever seen.

Granted, she hadn't traveled far and seen much, but she'd like to think she knew _enough _as an adult.

Slim, doll-like cheeks and jawlines. Otherworldly violet hair, its shade gradating enough to create extreme illusion of depth. A sweet smile and pure, crystalline eyes. Lithe, gentle figure, with slight swells eliciting the forbidden desires of both men and women alike.

One look, and Erytheia was sure this young woman in front of her came from money. The latter's white- and liliac-colored thick robes might not have the translucent silkiness many princesses wore to entice their future husbands, or the teasing cuts to reveal flesh to gather noblemen, but its quality was far higher than the two examples she presented. Even the faint magical energy it exuded exceeded her own reserves! And that's just from this piece of cloth!

"Ah? Y-You're still here? S-So I am in the way, aren't I…?" The girl mumbled shyly, twisting Erytheia's self-proclaimed 'cold' heart.

"NO!"

Her voice was clearly far too loud for the usually quiet library, and before the nymph could close her mouth, several rushing footsteps were already running towards their location. One by one, Andromeda, Perseus, Aigle, and Hesperia arrived, all on guard and ready to fight bare-handed – their weapons were stored near the entrance, too far for them to reach quickly.

At the very least, she quickly raised one palm to stop them, but it seemed that gesture was unnecessary.

Because all of them had their bodies frozen in place, frost covering their entire bodies, encasing them in unnaturally clear, strong layer of ice. It's so expertly controlled their minds weren't affected temporarily, allowing them to see and hear what's going on… with limited possibilities, of course.

The kind, caring young woman had already disappeared from sight.

\- Crack… Crack… Crack…

After a while, their encasing ice broke apart, releasing them into heaps of bodies on the floor, panting and shivering heavily.

"I-I'm sorry…!" The same voice called out timidly from above, where Andromeda – with difficulty – craned her neck to look towards. The young woman was… _flying_?!

"…w-who?" That's all the party leader could muster in her weakened state.

In fact, flight spells weren't as uncommon as Andromeda made out. All decent B-Ranked adventurers, who were magi beforehand, had basic stable flight spells, at least allowing them to float in place in case of emergency. Of course, it's no way an ordinary feat, as it required a perfect grasp of the three dimensional planes to even being learning the most basic tricks.

Therefore… they were just about to attack and gang-up on an adventurer at least three levels above them in skill and experience.

Erytheia cursed herself for her big mouth which brought this trouble upon them. "F-Forgive us… W-We didn't m-mean a-any harm…" Her teeth kept cackling, making speaking difficult. "P-Please…"

"R-Right away!"

The young girl's response was just as stuttered and scattered as theirs, though for different reasons – it's likely this was just her personality towards strangers. Looking at her apparent age, she's definitely younger than any of them, which simply outlined her talent even more.

Warm air blew through their now-soaked clothes, with several spots of frost still apparent and now melting rapidly. After several seconds, they're completely dry, though the chill in their bones were still quite painful, entering their joints and marrows.

The young violet-haired girl floated down as easily and naturally as breathing, which meant Andromeda's expectations were spot-on – at the very least, this girl's ability matched those B-Rankers – and landed among them, checking them over for any lingering injuries. The fact she did all that without a catalyst was even more impressive.

Nowadays, staves and wands were beginning to get unpopular with pure magi, as using them were viewed as a less competent control over their own magic energy, requiring a catalyst to enact their Mysteries. However, adventurers tend to not only keep these objects, but reinforced and modified them to use as an emergency close-quarters combat weapon. In situations where split-second decisions could mean life or death, the presence of an available tool was often that bit of a difference needed.

Also, having complicated magic rituals carved into every inch of the staves and wands had become compulsory, enabling these specialized spellcasters to enact Anti-Army spells at the snap of a finger. All in all, because they prefer the practical results rather than intellectual and academic improvements, most adventurers carried some sort of catalyst, with most as tall as their wielders themselves.

"Haa… Thank goodness you're all fine…" The girl sighed in relief, patting the intricate embroidery decorating the top of her robes near her chest. "I am Medea, from Colchis. That one earlier… Apologies, I was startled, and…"

"N-No, it's my fault for not reading the situation…" Andromeda lightly bowed. No matter how old the opposing party looked, adventurers must show the appropriate respect to their superior in rank – Perseus's personality notwithstanding – and she added, "My party member here had gestured to me it's not an emergency… Yet, I read it wrong and late. It's not your fault."

Perseus pushed himself off the ground with a grunt, feeling he's getting floored more and more often lately. Was his luck this bad? What could possibly cause this?

"G-Guh… What rank are you? Y-You're an adventurer like us, right?" He asked, ruder than usual because of the earlier [Cocytus] – the [Ice] Element Magecraft Medea used – much to Andromeda's annoyance.

"Hmm…? Oh, I'm C-Ranked; just starting this week! Nice to meet you!" She cheerfully answered, offering a handshake towards Andromeda, who she perceived as the party leader. "You're the captain, right? What's your name?"

"Andromeda, from Ethiopia," she politely replied. Her prediction was slightly off, but not by much – if this girl was a rookie, then it made sense she's a C-Ranker, not higher – not that the bronze-skinned woman was jealous or anything. "We're newbies too, but E-Ranked. Nowhere near your talent, I suppose."

"A-Ahahaha… T-Thanks…?" Medea clearly didn't know how to react to the sarcastic answer, but the older woman quickly added, "Don't fret it; it's a joke to tease you. Maybe we can work together in the future? Or… maybe now? You don't have a party yet, no?"

Sensing an opportunity, the Ethiopian princess struck. The young woman in front of her seemed naïve and easily carried away by the current; having her as a member of their team, even temporarily, would greatly boost their chances to take on higher-paying missions and return unscathed. While she disliked exhibiting the same manipulative tendencies her siblings did when going to proverbial war for the throne, she _was_ educated in it.

"Yes, she does."

The group jumped when a stern female voice called out from behind them. Upon first hearing, it's similar in pitch to Medea – so perhaps a relative – but the tone was far more mature and chilling.

Turning around, a pink-haired woman flapped her pitch-black wings and descended near them. The fact her action didn't even ruffle the thin parchments around them showed her control over her own style of flight Magecraft, perhaps even better than Medea herself. Her divine, exquisite face was coldly stern, her eyes able to reveal the depths of their soul…

As fast as she could manage, Andromeda snapped her own thumb bones with a loud 'crack', releasing the grasp of the [Charm] Magecraft unknowingly cast on them.

The pink-haired woman sneered. "Good job. It seems you have some ability."

"Aunt Circe! What's that all about!" Medea hurriedly dispelled the enchantment, chiding the short woman. "T-That's not necessary!"

"They wanted to attack you, no matter the reason. That's enough for me." Instead of feeling apologetic, Circe firmly encircled her arms around Medea's slender, slightly taller frame. "Whether you realized it or not, I _am_ responsible for you. Look what happened when I left you for _one second_. Now, whose fault is that?"

"Uuu…" Verbally defeated, the Colchian princess hung her head low.

Over Medea's shoulder, Circe sternly said, "Now, for you lot… _scram_."

* * *

"Sorry, guys… that was my fault."

It's rare for Perseus to see Andromeda so down. Even when he messed up during their first meeting with Sir Shirō, she was the only one among the rookies to maintain her cool, calm head and dared to face the S-Ranker eye-to-eye – something so simple he even failed to do.

He wouldn't admit it… but that's one of her traits he admired greatly. This was also why he didn't fight too much when she elected herself as party leader, barring several quiet grumbles which earned him a hard, painful twist of the ears.

Hesperia was busy soothing the prostrating party leader, rubbing her back to tell her everything's fine – but Andromeda's pride and personality wouldn't take this mistake lightly without repercussions. They nearly died earlier today because of a simple miscommunication… and would certainly die if the person they offended wasn't as kind and merciful as Medea.

Somehow, the two women they met earlier had familiar names… Perhaps Perseus had read up on them somewhere? But they must be no one important – or else he'd remember. He's good at doing that, identifying who's the alpha dog and disregarding the chumps, just to focus his energy on who to respect and not. There's no sense groveling in front of those who didn't deserve it.

Yes, he'd learn not to underestimate people according to their appearance… but not their title. That's why he's desperately learning who had earned their stripes and not, so he wouldn't make the same mistake he did on the ship, endangering Andromeda and the rest.

Secretly, of course. He wouldn't admit it, but he's embarrassed if he's caught being so serious and studious, since the image he wanted to project was one of 'perfect talent', where his results came easy and smooth, and not one of struggles and hardships.

In the end, people had their desired 'personas', and for adventurers, for whom reputation was sometimes more useful than ability, it's even more important.

After a while, with Aigle's help, Andromeda was neatly seated back on the bench they occupied in the Adventurers' Guild spare room, where spoils were quartered and rewards distributed.

A soft knock on the doorframe revealed the same petite raccoon-eared female receptionist who greeted them the first time they came here, to the main branch of the Guild. However, her usually kind and accommodating expression was gone, replaced by a stern, scolding kind of anger, making her look far older than her physical appearance.

"Those two people you encountered… were royalties. While I don't place them higher than you as professionals – every one of you had the same rights, after all – you might've brought trouble to the Guild." Narrowing her eyes, they saw her bushy tail stiff and bristling with emotion, though her voice remained calm and steady. "_That_, I don't appreciate. It's good you know and admit your mistakes."

Erytheia protested this chiding. "It's not her fault! I… I was the one too rash, and…"

Raphtalia shoved a palm in the air in front of her face, silencing her. "I've received the complete report, even from the library's automated surveillance. There's no need for you to say anything further. Besides, if you think it's unfair, I've warned the other party as well, just like this."

She then pointed her voice directly at the white-haired nymph. "And they've been far more accepting than your current attitude, I may add. It'd take them far – not sure about you."

The nymph wanted to protest further, but Perseus's firm hand clasped itself on her shoulder. "We understand," he spoke, taking charge of the conversation for the team. "If that's all, then… we'll take our leave."

Hesperia then dragged the still-regretful Andromeda out of the building, with Perseus and Aigle keeping Erytheia's emotions in check. Both women were grumbling out their own problems, all the way into their inn.

* * *

Fortunately, Medea was kind enough to compensate their interrupted work, tossing a bag of silver coins like it's cheap change – which for someone of her identity, it might've as well been that – so they're not pressed for money. It's more than enough to equal half a dozen similarly-ranked requests, too, so they had a few days to recuperate instead of rushing into another job.

'_Really, that [Cocytus] spell was troublesome…'_ Aigle thought in a rare moment of seriousness, belying her usual happy-go-lucky attitude. _'From what I read… it's so frightening…!'_

And that spell was used _on reflex_, without any prior preparation. For a Magecraft at the level of Five-Line, at the very least, Medea instead used it without chanting and faster than they could react. Not only that, she even compounded the difficulty by simultaneously operating a flight spell – though one Aigle didn't recognize, as did Circe's version – at the same time.

She shivered, both from the remaining biting cold and fear what could've happened.

To learn Magecraft was to walk alongside [Death]. That expression was almost realized just now, justifying Raphtalia's anger and worry. As a receptionist, she'd seen promising young men and women came and went – and sometimes never returned. The knowledge that every meeting might be the last was what drove the hospitality of Adventurers' Guild's army of receptionists and workers, especially the raccoon-eared beast girl stationed at the main branch.

How much pain did the Guild Master himself endured to build his organization to such heights? How many regrets he had, and how many nightmares haunted him? Truly, he deserved his S-Rank designation, even though it's relatively well-known he was inferior in outright combat compared to his peers.

Going back to Medea's spell, it had the effect – if executed properly – of applying the [Freeze] concept into someone's _soul_, much less their bodies and minds. Named after the 5th river encircling Hades's territory, the underworld, the spell truly stood up to the real river's name: Lamentation. Its maximum range was enough to cover a quarter of Mycenae, if used at full power, so it's lucky Medea didn't actually want to kill them, only incapacitate.

The fact she's able to do so with so much margin for Magecraft operational capacity only cemented the gulf between them.

She's a rookie… and immediately rushed into C-Rank. Normally, Aigle would've suspected foul play, such as nepotism using Medea's bloodline… but that's rendered moot after one demonstration of power.

When they're waiting for Raphtalia to show up earlier, Aigle managed to gather some more information regarding the two women they met. Hey, being sociable and fun had its merits – enabling her to mingle better with the veterans who willingly disclosed precious information to the pretty, bubbly nymph with smooth skin.

Medea was confirmed as a rookie – as a matter of fact, she just registered a few days ago. However, none of them had concrete information regarding her royal lineage. The girl herself identified from Colchis, but who knew if that's the truth or simply the alias she took? There's also many occasions where coming from royalty actually hindered adventuring, instead of helping.

There's also the option of sneaking into the Guild's record room, but Raphtalia arrived before Aigle could initiate that bold plan.

The pink-haired woman wasn't an adventurer, so she assumed Circe was a relative of Medea, or at least a more senior apprentice, given their similar style in Magecraft. Clearly much less sociable, Aigle immediately placed her in the 'Danger! Do Not Anger!' category in her brain.

As she recounted what happened earlier in her head, the rest of her party was arranging their stocks and equipment in a gloomy atmosphere.

"W-What kind of air is this?! Let's go out and drink! DRINK!"

"S-Sister, I'm not sure…"

Hesperia's pleas fell on deaf ears.

"DDDDDDRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKKK!"

* * *

Over the next few days, their routine ended up became rather stale, consisting of waking up daily and doing menial chores. Sensing this, Andromeda went to the Guild to gather more exciting requests, preferably those outside of town or even the province itself.

However, with her hand hovering over several pieces of paper stuck to the vertical board, she hesitated.

The experiences of the past few days replayed over and over again in her head, making the tip of her fingers tremble.

"Am I… really worthy of being a party leader?"

Her utterance was quiet enough to prevent anyone listening, but the doubt simply echoed louder in her head.

No matter how eccentric their personalities, her party members were, after all, her first teammates. The first group of people she could trust with her life, where she couldn't even do so back home in Ethiopia. Back there, showing someone else one's back was simply asking to be stabbed, either figuratively or literally, particularly for a woman of her background. It's no worse than the rest of the Greek city-states, but that didn't make it any way acceptable.

However, she had betrayed their trust.

The horrible slime hunt wouldn't end that way if she's more forceful with her teammates. The incident in the library wouldn't have happened if she was more diligent and careful, not to mention trusting Erytheia's signals more. After those two, they took several other chores, which she rationalized should temper down the tension they experienced recently… but only ending up creating a heavy sense of dissatisfaction among the group.

She could tell what they're thinking. Why were we doing these crappy jobs? Why were we even following this bossy woman? Why shouldn't we join more experienced groups filled with veterans? Maybe we could earn better money there?

She bit her lips, trying her hardest to steady the hand picking their next job.

Because this one could be their last.

Even Hesperia had been avoiding her lately, often stammering out excuses before leaving somewhere. The triplets hadn't been speaking to each other lately – Andromeda was sure she was the cause of this family break-up. To imagine three sisters, having been together since birth, to fall apart because she was acting as a bitchy wedge among them…

Not to mention Perseus.

He… had been more difficult lately, even more than usual.

She preferred dealing with his arrogant self, simply because that version of him was more honest. He's the type to speak out his mind – which was often filled with negative things about _everything_ – so she could react and plan accordingly.

Now, he's sullener and more thoughtful of things, replying with curt one-liners most of the time, and the gaze of his eyes… they held the light which didn't place Andromeda anywhere near his level. As if he's seeing a stranger in front of him…

Or maybe it's just her being too manipulative? She just wanted the best for all of them…! Was that wrong?

'_What to do… What to do…'_

\- Pat.

She almost squeaked loudly at the hand suddenly placing itself on her head. When she turned around…

"G-Guild Master…!"

A tall, teak-haired man was there, smiling at her kindly.

"It seems you're a bit troubled."

"N-No, this is…!" She tried to shake his hand off, to brush it away like she did to her concerns, but it didn't even budge.

It appeared he's not an S-Ranker just for show.

Upon closer inspection, his other hand was holding several travel bags, packed tightly for extended trip. She couldn't see any apparent weapons, so… a holiday, perhaps?

But why was he taking the time to talk to her, a rookie? Surely, he didn't recognize her?

Yes, perhaps that's the case. It's maybe just his nature to assist any troubled individual, regardless of rank. She's no one special, after all – she let that right go when she escaped her troubled home, where political infighting happened every single moment.

He simply chuckled at his efforts, letting his deep, calming tone reverberate across the mission hall. That earned unwanted attention on her, who quickly flushed at the number of gazes landing on herself.

"I've seen plenty of the same expression almost every day, so forgive me for being a nosy old man."

Andromeda lowered her gaze, feeling unworthy of Chiron's attention.

"And _that_ expression as well. Raise your face, _paidi mou_, and stand tall. I understand being a party leader is tough – and I'm not here to tell you otherwise. I won't coddle you, but as fellow professionals, perhaps I should give you the hard truths you held long in your heart," he ordered, which she quickly followed. "Using the 'street' term… _suck it up_."

"I know that already…" Andromeda's frustration with her current situation led her to reply rudely, much in the same vein as Perseus. "But… Guild Master, I'm not strong enough…!"

"_No one_ is at the start," he immediately retaliated. "Do you know what is necessary for these individuals?" Chiron waved his hand to the seated veterans behind him. "That is… failure. Over, and over, and over again."

Looking at her confused face, he patiently explained, "These guys here had experienced what you had so much to the point they're sick of it already, but they learned from it. They fell into the hole you're in now so many times… but they _climbed back up_."

\- Pa!

"So straighten your back, and sharpen your face."

Chiron's hands were wide and rough, to the point his clap to her back hurt quite a lot. There's no doubt it'd leave a red bruise for her to deal with later on, but it's not pain what she's feeling right now.

She felt… _light_. Free. The soon-to-redden burning feeling on her back acted like a gigantic divine wind giving her a push away from her slump.

Chiron's words were simple and unremarkable. Anyone could say them without the need for prosaic learning. It's just like he said: _street term_. Such a precise, blunt phrase, yet that's exactly what she needed right now. His voice was naturally charismatic and attractive, making her think she'd be able to reach this conclusion even from listening to it through a wall.

That's why he's Guild Master, she theorized internally.

The ability to manage and gather people from all races, language, culture, and personal demons into one driven organization, large enough to rival any city-states in terms of raw power. The smooth, deep, rich voice was as lush as the plains centaurs were famous to control, before their extermination a few years ago by Sir Shirō, forcing even the stubbornest people to pause and listen.

Before she could snap out of her revelation and give her enthusiastic gratitude, though, he's already gone out of the door.

'…_he really was in a hurry, huh? Going to an important event, perhaps…?'_

With that rationalization finished, she eagerly snatched two nearby quest papers and skipped to the reception, where Raphtalia was waiting with understanding – and relief – in her eyes.

* * *

**Glossary Update!**

* * *

**A**

**Amazon**

Found around the river Thermodon, located somewhere in modern-day Turkey, this was a nation of fierce warrior-women. Lacking talent in Magecraft due to their inheritance of Ares's impure blood, they focused on honing their physical strength and close-quarters battle techniques, though there were unique abilities stemming from their overwhelming Conceptual Weight which might be similar to Magecraft. This deficiency did not affect their ability to wield general Mystic Codes in the slightest.

Its capital, Themiskrya, was chiseled out of soft seaside cliffs into habitable buildings. As their power and influence grew, more elaborate buildings were added on top of the old ones, leaving the royal palace – the grandest of them all – directly facing the sea, where the queen and her relatives could enjoy the best unobstructed view of the place their ancestors came from.

**Ancient Greek Dialects**

The 'standard' Greek language, as spoken formally by authorities, was Attic, which originated from Athens. Seen as the most complete and neutral way of speaking, it became widespread and used in most formal gatherings. Casual greetings between families and close acquaintances might use lesser-known dialects, as explained below.

The oldest dialect to hold a firm cultural grip was Arcado, and its branch Cypriot. Atalanta spoke in a mixture of this dialect and normal Attic, giving an old-fashioned style to her way of talking. It's prevalent in Arcadia, owing to its rather secular topography, with plenty of thick forests and mountainous valleys, and Cyprus, due to its isolated nature as an island.

Aeolic was the most common 'casual' accent, spoken widely across Northern and Eastern Greece, including the western shores of Asia Minor. A coarser dialect was Iolic, popular in the archipelagos of the Aegean Sea, and considered a 'sailors' tongue'. Both of these were easy to learn, and often were the first dialect learned through informal education among local and foreign residents. Medusa, Medea, and Circe used these accents interchangeably with normal Attic, along with most Colchians.

Dorian was considered rather peculiar, and initially exclusive to the western shores of Greece, directly bordering the Ionian Sea to the west. Stretching all the way from Macedon to Sparta, it still saw popular uses in military slangs as well as parts of formal writing, prior to its dispersion and merger with the Attic dialect. Alexander the Great was educated in pure Dorian and Attic, but he used the latter in his widespread campaign across Europe and Asia.

**Aphrodisia**

An annual festival held in honor of the goddess Aphrodite. Symbolically, it was meant to be a purification ritual for temples and leylines using the blood of pure doves, though in reality it became a mass female deflowering ceremony, either by legal husband-and-wife in their first night, or public torture and humiliation for captured slaves. The 'doves' then became synonymous with the word 'maiden' during the festival.

Ropes and torches were the main tools required for the festivity, though the usage of them vary according to each participant. The rope symbolized a couple's physical, emotional, and spiritual bond, as well as their pact to respect Aphrodite, who usually graced a fortunate few with a taste of her body herself. The torches were held so to prevent the participants from losing their sight in the frenzy, though some participants used it in a perverse manner.

Other sacred items were, but not limited to: salt, phallus-shaped bread, white male goats, various flowers and incense, as well as general sexual symbols. The greatest festival was usually held at Cyprus, though the main location might vary in times of unrest or war. Violence and conflict were expressly forbidden during the festival; any wrongdoers would immediately be sentenced with, at best, exile, or at worst, death.

* * *

**C**

**Centaur**

Beastmen with the lower body of a horse and the upper body of a man. A close relative of satyrs, whose appearance was the complete opposite, they roamed and ruled most of the Peloponnese peninsula and southeastern Thessaly until a few years ago. Wilder than the most vicious beasts, they're often seen as barbarian nuisance who're slaves to their carnal desires: lust, wrath, gluttony, and so on.

A few years ago, Lord Jason of Iolchos suddenly went into a Greece-wide extermination hunt. The reason of this was publicly unknown, as Chiron, a close friend of his, was also a centaur, yet was the sole individual spared. The centaur race went extinct in only a fortnight, with even the most remote sanctuaries raided and slaughtered, burnt to the ground until the very last infant.

Because most centaurs had bounties on account of their misdeeds, this served as a catalyst to Lord Jason's promotion to S-Rank, for the speed and brutality he exhibited across the lands. The last remaining centaur, Chiron, mostly assumed his human form after this massacre, hinting of his knowledge behind Lord Jason's motives.

**Cocytus**

_Black ship of Kharon eternally sails_  
_into the sunless land of dark hells._  
_Land of those lost, family and dear friend,_  
_exists for all wicked women and men!_  
_Black abyss where Apollo never walks,_  
_lost souls ripped apart by demonic hawks._

_Delivered shadows fall onto prayers cast,_  
_vanity briefly soothed, but never lasts._  
_Prayers sinking quickly like river cast stones,_  
_dreams forming into ghastly skin and bones!_  
_Waters that wrap around Hades evil realm_  
_with Dæmon, evil dark Lord at the helm._

Named after the fifth river in the Underworld, circling Hades along with four others, it's a Compound Magecraft from two Elements: [Freeze] and [Soul], derived from the deities Boreas and Psyche, respectively. While outwardly it appeared to be a simple ice-based Magecraft, the reality was far from what it seemed. It first applied mental interference into its targets' souls, freezing the time in their realms. As the body mirrored what the soul looked like, their appearance would then freeze, following the soul's immobilization. Mastery of this Magecraft was signified by the lack of chanting required for it, transforming it into a Single-Action spell.

* * *

**M**

**Magecraft in Daily Life**

In this era, the value of humanity was high, and their relationship with Mysteries – and in extent, the World – was still close. Magecraft was widespread to the point of being used in everyday, mundane tasks, such as cleaning or cooking. Still, not everyone was able to execute it, and even the lowest level spells required considerable training and experience. Thus, housekeeping jobs were very popular due to the demands.

Usage of Magecraft wasn't frowned upon, unless the perpetrator did a clear crime. Even if that happened, authorities were freely able to use Magecraft to detect and uncover every culprit. However, this freedom also enabled abuse of power, and the sight of a lord or lady abusing their underlings using Magecraft was far too common a sight.

Most high-level Magecraft were able to be casted with the speed of modern Single-Action spells, if properly trained. For powerful magi and magic users, regular spells were used as easily as breathing.


	16. Union, At Last (I)

**Welcome back.**

**Personally, I think this chapter's one of my most satisfying ones to write and struggle through. So, I won't bother with the pleasantries this time - that's how much I'm excited to bring this chapter to you guys. Some Character Sheet updates below.  
**

**Plain mailbag:  
****That one guy****: Maybe. Still a long way to go, though... So please patiently wait for that arc to come!  
FlamistMist-GentleWaves: ****They are OCs to the TYPE-MOON universe, yes, but not to historical Ancient Greece. I simply took liberties in using them in the story.  
Lost Stardust1: ****Yes, though remember from Atalanta's flashback, he didn't do it because of her. It's because of the extermination that the stragglers were inadvertently pushed into Atalanta's territory, where they lusted over her.  
Trasgo Madaraz Artifex: ****Caenis (both in male and female form) will appear quite a bit later than the wedding.  
**

**Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Cultural references contained in this chapter is solely for story purposes only. I have no desire to portray them in a historically-accurate manner, though of course I welcome constructive criticisms and questions from you if you need further explanation.**

* * *

\- Rumble. Rumble. Rumble.

"It's not Zeus's thunder? Hmm…" Chiron's voice mumbled to no one in particular, but the heroes around him heard him clearly.

Even Herakles, who was already tipsy, regained his sharp composure quickly at his teacher's mutterings.

"Is there another deity who can manipulate thunder, Teacher?" Castor queried, with his twin brother nodding behind him. "Or is a sinister curse in place?"

The centaur smiled at the two young boys. "Really, do my teachings not reach you? What I meant by 'Zeus's thunder' was the intentional, directed smite he consciously used. Not all weather phenomena are under the Olympians' watch, as some of them were naturally and automatically formed under the laws of nature."

"And this weather is one such results?" Pollux asked.

Chiron nodded, then added, "Well… it does make the mood somber, doesn't it?"

"Agreed!" Herakles's boisterous voice echoed from some way away from them. "We are attending a wedding! Father should've been more attentive to these things! Hahaha!"

"This is a _private_ wedding, you fool," Asclepius scolded lightly, sitting across from Herakles's large body and quietly sipping the available fruit wine. "And stop drinking so much. It's bad for your body!"

"Well, I feel great! What're you gonna' do about it, huh?!" Herakles growled, his words already slurring due to the alcohol.

To be honest, he was mostly correct. Even this version of Herakles, without God Hand, was still an extremely durable demigod, prior to his ascension to Olympus. An amount of alcohol enough to kill a normal mortal was barely an appetizer for him – though as his wife frequently attested, this seemingly unlimited 'drinking ceiling' often made him go beyond the edge, leading to many unwanted confrontations with others.

Asclepius's lower eyelid twitched. _'I really hope Jason is here…'_

Much as he'd like to knock Herakles unconscious – and much as this uselessly big person deserved it – he didn't have the strength to do so. In fact, among all the people here, no one did, not even Chiron. Jason – _'Shirō_,_'_ he noted internally – had the optimum combination of strength, speed, and personal respect to get close to this berserker and knock him out quickly to prevent him from being a further annoyance.

"That's enough, you two. Make some considerations to the bride," Chiron sharply rebuked, nudging his head towards the young woman perched atop of the tallest tree in the region, several hundred steps away from them.

This group of heroes were currently relaxing in the soon-to-be reception area for Jason's wedding, in the surrounding courtyard of Atalanta's forest home. The two apparently had hired some contractors to sustainably remodel this area temporarily, without damaging the forest, given the unnaturally large and flat clearing they're on.

With the dark clouds flashing with lightning in the horizon, several gusts of bone-biting winds did make their way around the tree trunks, lowering the temperature – and the mood – even further. Fortunately, they're all high-ranked Adventurers and heroes, and were used to adverse conditions far worse than this.

"M-Mu… M-Mugyah!"

\- Clatter…

A rather loud placement of the next round of drinks on a tray was clumsily caused by Medusa. Even though she had enough strength to lift the entire contents of the tray – large jars about her own size filled with sloshing thick alcohol – the tray was far too wide for her to get a proper grip or balance.

This had been her third trip from the kitchen to Herakles's table already, and she still hadn't got the hang of it.

"F-Fuh…" She wiped the sweat off her forehead, but her face was soon covered by an expensive and soft cloth. "F-Fuwa…!"

Asclepious religiously wiped off her cute face with his handkerchief, grumbling, "See, Herakles? You are heartless, forcing such a young maiden to serve your gluttony! How shameless!"

"S-So you have a problem with that, young lady?!" Herakles replied callously, taking off the jars and placing the trays to one side. He at least toned down his volume from earlier, but his hulking mass forced him to bend down menacingly on the shivering little girl, making him look more intimidating than he wanted. "H-Huh?! It's alright, say it to my face! I… I-I can take it!"

\- BAM!

Instead of Medusa's complain, a blunted arrow smashed straight into his reddened face, courtesy of the irritated Atalanta from a long distance away.

Castor gulped. "T-That arrow… h-has Lady Artemis's Authority in it… and h-he took it to the f-face?!"

"Not quite," Chiron corrected. "That is Atalanta's personal Domain, and it's stronger here or around any forests, making it so formidable."

True to the centaur's words, the hulking man was knocked out cold, blindsided by the silent and undetected attack, splayed onto the ground. Fortunately, Jason had the insight to provide extremely sturdy furniture, or else the benches and tables would've been in pieces long before the wedding began.

"In this Arcadian forest, her strength can reach the S-Rank, similar to her husband-to-be," Chiron added, though far too late a warning for his passed-out student now. "I myself am not confident in facing against her in this terrain."

Pollux widened his eyes, surprised. "N-Not even you, Teacher?"

"_Especially_ me, to be frank," Chiron admitted. "When facing against an archer, common sense would dictate a close-ranged warrior would choose to rush in and take the fight into their preferred distance, correct?"

The twins nodded.

"However, that tactic, no matter how effective, is so predictable that most high-ranked archers had already prepared countermeasures for that. Myself, for instance, choose to train in hand-to-hand combat – Pankration – to surprise them."

Using one thumb to point at Atalanta's tiny figure, far away, he continued, "But we can't do anything when we're outclassed in our own field: long-range combat. In this place, she is simply the better archer. There is no countermeasure for _that_."

After saying that, he waved goodbye to the tiny group and walked towards the tree the bride-to-be was perched on.

The lack of sunlight, owing to the dark clouds overhead, made navigating his way rather difficult. Centaurs were inherently creatures of the open plains, where they could gallop at full sprint; therefore, the convoluted, uneven, cramped forest floor slowed his steps down. Additionally, moving across the tree tops was both unnecessary and dangerous – One, he's not familiar with the area; and two, he was far less adept at three-dimensional movement than the girl he's looking for.

So he could only trudge on like a normal human being. It's refreshing, really; here, with no titles or statuses to bother him, he could revert back into his old self, simply enjoying life among nature.

"You should stop worrying. He will be alright," Chiron said, after climbing the ridiculously old and tall tree with some effort. "You know him better than I do – his former mentor – so relax."

"Mn."

The short reply was characteristic of her, yet of course it didn't help matters when he's trying to cheer her up.

Really, must all high-ranked Adventurers be this difficult? He didn't recall meeting any troublemakers like these when he first created the Guild…

"Haa…" Chiron sighed, already somewhat used to her aloof demeanor. "Are you the one causing the weather to turn like this?"

"You are stupid, Guild Master, for suggesting that," she curtly replied, her eyes still glued to the horizon somewhere.

"Alright, alright…" He raised both palms in surrender. "Still, you should entertain the guests more. At the very least, the little girl is restless without you."

The mention of Medusa made Atalanta's cat ears twitched, though she remained unmoved.

Speaking of which…

"M-Miss A-Atalanta…! H-Here's your drink…!" Medusa struggled to hop onto the thick branch they're on, while carrying a closed bottle on her waist. The sight of her clambering on the bark with her small hands was equally adorable and pitying, leading the centaur to rise up and help her.

However, he was slower than Atalanta, who's already holding the small girl in her embrace like a hug pillow.

"U-Um… M-Miss…? The drink is here…"

The older girl silently took the bottle and swigged down its entire contents down at once.

"O-Oi, Atalanta! T-That's-!" Chiron wanted to warn her of its high alcoholic content, but it's too late. He made eye contact with the 'prisoner' now snuggled securely on Atalanta's lap, silently asking for forgiveness he couldn't save her right now.

Medusa's silent pleas was betrayed by a shift in eye contact from the Guild Master, who respectfully bowed as if he's witnessing a funeral and hopped down from the tree.

'_T-Traitor…!'_

Predictably, the arms and (rather modest) chest cocooning Medusa grew noticeably warmer, and when she looked up, Atalanta's feverish gaze was waiting for her, like a lion about to feast on a helpless snake.

"Medusa… y-you won't leave me, right…?" She mumbled into Medusa's hair, burying her nose into it. **"Right?"**

\- Gulp.

The saliva the young girl was swallowing never felt so heavy.

"N-Naturally… We're family now, aren't we?" Medusa tried to put on a brave face, no matter how nervous she was right now. Trying to calm the older girl down, she patted Atalanta's cheeks with her small palm, using slightly more strength than usual due to the latter's fuzzy state. "Didn't we decide on that already? I-I'm sure Sir Shirō is even more certain! Don't worry!"

She knew Atalanta would never bring her harm. Over these past weeks, living together with the couple, Medusa felt what she never even did with her sisters: being a family. One which loved and cared for each other, one which could criticize and laugh at each other, one which they could all lay their dreams and nightmares bare, and be accepted.

This older girl could be cold and rude, then the next moment turned into a terrifyingly spoiling and spoiled girl, with nothing in-between. The two extremes made her difficult to socialize with normal people – just look at her continued absence from the small pre-wedding party. Even Herakles, with all his brashness, was incredibly social and popular among the people outside, whether they're adventurers, nobles, or commoners.

But, with her own two eyes, Medusa witnessed the deep love Atalanta held for cute animals, nature… and most importantly, Lord Jason of Iolchos himself. He, too, exhibited the same emotion, thus Medusa had no doubt of his feelings for his bride-to-be.

After all, wasn't it Atalanta who said a few days ago how much she trusted him? And even if a 'betrayal' occurred, she even confessed to Medusa she'd be alright with another woman or two, just so long as they're worth the effort!

So what's bugging the older girl right now…?

"Pre-marital nervousness, I presume…?"

Medusa twitched, as the speaker's voice just now wasn't hers or Atalanta… yet oh-so-familiar all the same.

\- Hoot! Hoot!

A shadow blurred among the dark clouds and rumbling thunder, revealing itself to be an unnaturally large owl, swooping down and perching itself in front of the seated Atalanta and Medusa. It's even larger than most eagles, making its perched form very plump and fluffy-looking.

"S-So fluffy… Fluff-fluffity-fluff…"

The owl was alarmed by Atalanta's muttering, but it was too late.

Medusa had already been seated neatly where Atalanta was, but the owl was almost crushed by the monstrous hug the Arcadian princess put it in. She used her fingers to comb through its divine, lustrous feathers, patting it at various places which should be very inappropriate if done to a humanoid being.

"A-Aaahhh…! M-Medusaaa… H-Help meeee…!"

The owl must've used some Magecraft to imitate humans' speech, Medusa assumed, because according to the education she received recently, no normal beast could naturally form vocal chords similar in shape to humans or simians, much less actually speaking intelligently.

But, right now, Medusa could only copy what Chiron had just done earlier.

She rose and bowed lightly, allowing her long braided hair to fall onto the tree branch and brushed its bark.

"Forgive me, Mother… Your daughter has betrayed you…!"

Not even waiting for Athena's response, Medusa escaped back into the house, jumping off the tall tree.

* * *

\- Goetia.

Ars Goetia was rarely surprised, given he had been drilled to always be prepared for _everything_. He constituted himself as such, with command over many lesser – though still very powerful – demons covering the entirety of Pandora's supposed kingdom, informing him of every slight possible problem.

However, as he was in the middle of an assignment, a telepathic call from his master _was_ enough to surprise him, nearly making his grip on a precious artifact lessen.

"Master?"

\- Notoria has perished.

_That_ did make his grip loose, and the object ended up clattering on the floor with a heavy 'thud'. Fortunately, he had made sure no one would be around even if he made mistakes like this.

"That… How is that possible, Master, if I may inquire?"

Goetia stopped short of declaring the fact was impossible, as that was tantamount to accusing his 'mother' of lying. She always spoke the truth, and all her words were fact in the past, present, or future. The fact she contacted him this way only served to heighten the validity of the news' background.

\- Alaya's Heroic Vessel.

"He… has started moving already…?" Goetia mumbled to himself, though obviously all his thoughts were clear to Pandora to view anytime. "Then, should we hasten our efforts? I am ready to start, Master… even if some _compromises_ must be made."

\- Affirmative.

"Understood. I shall not disappoint you."

After the connection was cut, Goetia picked up the item he dropped earlier back into its pedestal, thinking of his fallen 'sister'. Yes, Notoria was never suited for direct combat, but in terms of subterfuge, she was far above him. Therefore… there must be something – or _someone_ – which leaked her plans, compromising her mission.

After all, how hard was it to influence and corrupt a little girl?

Also, even including her relative ineptitude in combat, her strength should've been able to overcome anything the Amazons could throw at her. Was it her personality which led to delays, which in turn gave the time for the Heroic Vessel to arrive and defeat her? Or did SHIRŌ know of this from the start?

Given the surprising nature of this recent developments, Goetia couldn't discount anything. Perhaps… his presence here, too, was already under suspicion?

He shook his head, careful not to knock anything over with his long antlers. There's no sense in second-guessing his work. So long as his preparations were meticulous, the expected problems would always come from predictable angles. Preparing against those, and the weaknesses they might exploit, should be enough to cover all eventualities, without question.

Grasping the item tightly in his palm, he channeled his demonic energy into it.

Said object was shaped like an egg, though clearly much bigger as Goetia's inhumanly large palm just managed to wrap his fingers around it. Made of metal, its sapphire base was encased in an abstract web of thin gold scaffolding, like a net encasing the fragile life it contained within.

Its bright blue core swirled violently as Goetia's demonic energy seeped through it, suffusing it with murky darkness fit only for the most disgusting of waste, instead of the egg's ethereal construction. Slowly, but surely, both the glowing sapphire and the gold surrounding it lost their luster, though the colors didn't change much in reality, merely getting darker and duller.

In fact, its appearance quickly reverted back to nearly its original state after some time, If not for its real owner's discernment, the change was almost impossible to make out.

Fortunately, Goetia had taken care of that part as well.

He turned around to address the kneeling muscular middle-aged man.

"With this, you swear loyalty to my master?" The tome's dark, grating voice spoke.

The man nodded, allowing his neatly-groomed back-length brown hair to spread to either side of his broad shoulders. From this position, Goetia couldn't determine the exact shade of the man's eyes – a useful clue to detect lies – but the man's trimmed beard across his jaw moved according to his response.

However, just a 'yes' wouldn't satisfy the demon's strict criteria, especially with the news of his 'sister's' failure. To be frank, he didn't even consider the kneeling man to be worth being graced by Pandora's presence, even if only her voice was telepathically transmitted.

"You sure are brave; I will respect that from you," Goetia grunted. "For giving yourself to my master, relinquishing everything you have, just for a _woman_? Truly, the depths you Olympians will grovel to never ceases to amaze me."

Instead of being intimidated, the muscular man mindlessly answered, "She was _perfect_. In her blemishes, she was better than any flawless immortals. The unreachable gem, protected by that blasted niece of mine… I shall have her, just like I have everything else."

"Kukuku… Amazing, truly amazing!" Goetia's mocking tone didn't seem to faze the man, however. "Then, drown in your new master's power, _Poseidon_!"

* * *

Hera carefully trotted her territory, wary of any potential traitors around her.

Olympus, much as it seemed finite from the outside, had several separate chambers much larger than they're logically possible due to the frequent abuse of a deity's Authority. After all, why settle for a lesser room than one's colleagues if they felt they're more powerful?

Therefore, paths connecting from a god's territory to another could seem straightforward, but was anything but. Essentially, any trips between the territories, even among fellow deities, was akin to crossing dimensions. It's not as potent a divide as the one already existed between the nascent Reverse Side of the World and the Outer World, but it's similar in principal.

In theory, then, Hera's own territory _should_ be a safe haven.

However, having observed Zeus's behavior over the past few weeks – an instant for these near-immortal gods – she no longer had that security. If _something_ did manage to worm its way to Zeus, then it's powerful and resourceful enough to reach her, and all the Olympians here.

She must act quickly and decisively, especially with this item given to her by her current champion, Jason of Iolchos.

The pulsating pink core was Eros's Divine Essence, having been recovered from his assailant after Jason and her – Ars Notoria – fought. He shared with Hera his concerns regarding the safety of all deities, disregarding their generation and loyalties, and asked her to be prudent in reviving the Protogenoi of [Love].

First of all, she must ascertain who her allies were… and her potential enemies were.

Zeus was most likely the latter. It tore her apart to say that so clearly in her heart – despite his shortcomings, he _was _her husband, after all. The womanizing, arrogant, easily-distracted man had been acting stranger and stranger lately, even closing himself from the voices of his various mistresses and his favorite son, Herakles. Though it's not to the point of the more reclusive deities, for Zeus, it was an alarmingly unusual behavior.

Then… who else?

Jason did recommend Athena and Artemis, so they should be safe to meet – she trusted her champion more than her own heart's voice lately, it seemed. What about the others, though? Did that _thing_ which influenced Zeus could also strike not just Olympians, but also their predecessors?

The fact Eros was able to be consumed proved the latter was likely to be true. Did it strike others already? How could she identify the fallen? It's not like the deities regularly kept in touch with each other, anyway – not even siblings were that close, as they had their territories and Domains for their worshipers to govern.

Secondly, Jason indicated the path to the Flame of Olympus was no longer available. If Hera did go there, it's likely she'd just be another victim on the list.

If so, then… how could she revive Eros and restore his functionality to this world?

He did share his Domain with his successor, Aphrodite, yes, but his absence would burden her too much and possibly drive her out of control in the near future – perhaps the very thing his assailant, Ars Notoria, and her backers were aiming for in the first place.

The world thrived on balance. If it wasn't there, the downward spiral of destruction following it would be catastrophic.

Thirdly… how could she safeguard herself and those she cared about? People might view her as giving Jason preferential treatment, but in reality, she supported all of her champions equally. It all depended on their talents and results, which also might grant them blessings from more deities over time – it just so happened Jason was so eye-catching in his success that this kind of ridiculous rumor was circulating around.

He assured her no harm would come to him or his close associates, and she was inclined to believe him – he _was_ the one who rescued Eros's Divine Essence, after all. His commitment to the people he loved was beyond doubt, as well.

Hera might not be a goddess specialized in combat, unlike Athena, but she had her own countermeasures unknown to anyone, not even her husband or children. In the unlikely event she was targeted – she didn't view herself as important a figure to attack as Zeus – she had several surprises lying for the assailants.

At the very least, she would leave a clue to the culprit's identity before she perished.

With determination burning in her eyes, she whispered to the pulsating pink core.

"Please be patient, Lord Eros. Things will be clear soon enough, and you shall be resurrected."

Its pulses calmed down somewhat after that, leading Hera to place it in the most secure location she could think of: in the center of her own territory, where it's safeguarded by the strength of her Conceptual Weight as the Queen of the Gods.

Aside from these matters… there's certain _complications_ happening recently. It could be positive or negative – which was why she hadn't made her mind up regarding this thing yet, and also why she carried _her_ off into a secluded space back in the Amazons' victory party.

Her champion… had a daughter, Molpadia.

Just like Zeus and his brethren, with every offspring they sire, either through the usual means or magical ones, the strings of fate would unravel a new thread, guaranteed to entangle itself into another one's destiny. At this nascent stage, it's difficult even for the youngest Sister of Fate, Atropos, to divine how this would affect everyone around her.

She could be the bane of her father, or his savior.

As the holder of the Authority of [Marriage] and [Family], she tried using both attributes on the innocent little girl, who was distracted by sweets by that time. Sugar was an expensive commodity, and a relatively new ingredient whose effects weren't yet understood completely, so it was used sparingly.

Apparently, it was enough to hook the little girl in, whose meals and diet were strictly dictated by her attendants Hippolyta appointed.

Perhaps Hera had done a bad thing…?

No, there's no sense in feeling guilty about it. The girl was happy – and the sight of a smiling child brought the highest form of pleasure in her, with her Divine Essences singing at the image. Besides, nothing really came up in her impromptu probe – which meant a visit to the Sisters of Fate was mandatory, after all.

For now, she had a wedding to bless and attend.

'_Should I tag along with Artemis's party, I wonder?'_

* * *

"A-Aunt Circe… I-I don't think this is a good idea…" Medea whispered sharply, her eyebrows contorted in worry. "Sneaking in into a person's party is one thing… but a _gamos?!_ It's a sacred ritual!"

"It _won't_ be a good idea if you keep talking!" Circe hissed sharply, nudging her niece's side. "Just keep quiet and follow my lead! Nod and smile, nod and smile…!"

They were huddled in one corner of a decorated garden in the middle of a lush forest. Medea had to admit the melding between human-made construct and the natural greenery around them couldn't be more perfect – clearly the work of a plant-based Magecraft. The tall, narrow table they're placing their snacks on had a spiraling tree trunk acting as its one sole leg, while the table top was packed leaves acting as a flat canopy, tight enough to support plates and mugs on it.

Medea's source of nervousness was Circe's idea to crash into 'the biggest party in Arcadia'… which turned out to be a _gamos_ – a wedding.

"Besides… this is the wedding of the Lord Jason you so admired! How come you don't want to be here?" Circe quietly teased in-between sips of fruit ale.

"That's _exactly_ the reason I don't want to be here…!" The Colchian princess whined. It's her dream to stand there by his side in a grand union, with tight friends and families – not seeing another woman take her ideal role!

Well, it's not as if she could even voice her thoughts out loud. The mature, objective side inside her explained how perfect a lady like Atalanta was as his bride. Of royal blood, powerful and experience, beautiful beyond compare, and having known him for so long… Medea really didn't have anything realistic to fight with. She's not even confident her appearance, which both Circe and Hecate had complimented several times, could even match up to the currently-groomed Atalanta.

Perhaps she could be an additional _kouridie alochos_? Hopefully the mistress position was still open…

Oh, her father would blow up if he could listen to her thoughts right now.

Besides, how could Aunt Circe receive an invitation to this clearly top-secret party?!

The people present could be listed as an all-star list of adventurers. Herakles and Chiron, the other two S-Rankers in the world, clearly held the most attention between them. Asclepius, the Dioscuri twins, and many other famous veterans were also here, causing Medea to swoon from meeting so many of her idols.

Now that she's an adventurer herself… maybe she could get some tips from them?

Her snacks laid uneaten, which was of course then devoured by Circe. Apparently, she had never watched her weight, able to eat just as heartily as the piglets she's raising back home, though Medea was too preoccupied to feel jealous.

The groom was here.

Atalanta's attendants – a few women Medea didn't recognize – yelp as the bride, still being dressed-up in a white robe with green floral pattern, jumped off her seat and rushed to the main gate. A burly man scolded her when she went pass him, saying a bride shouldn't show her dress so easily to the groom, especially because it's not finished yet, but her speed was quite clearly beyond what anyone in the room could achieve.

However, this dress had only been worn today… thus she tripped right after.

Medea saw Lord Jason moved just like in her dreams – rushing forwards with a passionate gaze, embracing the woman in his arms, asking sweetly whether she's okay…

Only that woman wasn't her, but Atalanta.

'_No, no! Snap out of it! Be mature and collected…! Calm, calm…'_ She mentally slapped herself to wake up from the unrealistic dream. She waved her miniaturized long staff discreetly under her robe – not that her robe hid much, given its translucent nature – dislodging the dress's long tail before it could tear, easing the bride's momentum.

"Geez… why are you rushing? I promised I'll be back in time, didn't I?" He gently asked, but his bride had already buried her face, veil and all, into his chest. "I… shouldn't uncover your veil yet, though I want to see your face. Come on; your attendants are fuming now, and your uncle seems about to have a stroke."

The sulking bride silently trudged back to where she was prepared, and soon several fox-eared girls surrounded her with fake scowls, but laughing eyes. They understood how moody she was – after all, they were the same. Atalanta's wild side was simply more pronounced due to her strong connection to the forest and Artemis, along with her Authority.

However, Medea throat was suddenly dry, as a petite, slim figure had pressed itself tightly into her back.

'_D-Did I get caught?! B-But I was j-just helping…!' _She panicked, noticing Circe was nowhere to be seen to help her. "E-Excuse me…!"

"Enjoying the show, Hecate's disciple?" A smooth, rigid female voice whispered into her ears.

"…!"

Even in Colchis, not many knew the identity of her teacher. Naturally, her closest family members and the prime minister knew, but as a sheltered princess, information about her was tightly regulated, much less about her teacher, the [Trinity] Hecate. Even Medea's face was often covered when appearing in public areas, making her figure more mysterious, much less her renowned recluse of a teacher.

A pair of palms covered her eyes, making her jump in shock, before some strength was exerted by the person behind her to twist her around, revealing a relatively short young girl with a tight, impish smile.

From the knowledge Hecate had (almost literally) drilled into her, she gasped as she realized this young girl's identity. "L-Lady Athena…!"

"I'm quite surprised your teacher allowed you to roam this far, Princess of Colchis," the Goddess of [Wisdom] coolly remarked. "I heard she treasured you so much, she didn't even let the other deities got a look at you."

'_Tell that to me when she's beating me up with her large staff…!'_ Medea silently protested, but choosing to be more concise and polite. "Greetings, o' Athena… A-Are you patronizing one of the champions here?" She asked, lightly pinching the tips of her robe and bowed.

She shook her long white hair, ethereally thin and pristine as the snow. "I simply heard of interesting things coming to fruition here from my 'daughter'."

"Eh? Daughter…?" According to the tomes Medea had read, Athena hadn't had any offspring, befitting her title as a virgin goddess.

\- Tap. Tap.

Before she could ask about it, a small 'tap, tap' plopped the side of her stomach. When Medea looked down, a tray of refreshments filled her view, though it's clear there's a small person holding it up. It's large enough to cover their body from her sight, and Athena laughed mildly at the sight.

"I have received your offering, Medusa."

When the tray was lifted, a cute, purple-haired child puffed her cheeks at Athena, rounding her baby fat-filled face even more. "I-I'm big enough to do so myself…!"

"Yes, yes, you are a big girl already…" Athena patted her head lovingly, showing this was the 'daughter' she mentioned earlier. As the tiny girl fumed, the goddess returned to speak with Medea, using her chin to point at the group of people arriving through the main gate. "Watch."

When Medea turned her head, her eyes widened again for what felt like the umpteenth time today.

"T-The Amazons cometh…?!"

As the young princess gaped at the entourage, Athena took Medusa to one side, brushing her fingers over the small child's forehead, where the red mark Athena put in the past was located. Medusa seemed to glow with a strange light, though Medea was too preoccupied to analyze what's going on behind her.

Colchis was relatively close, geographically, to the Amazons. However, because they didn't trade much, as their produce didn't match up, she knew little of the reclusive matriarchal society living off the cliffs in Black Sea's southern coast. At the very least, she knew of the theoretical culture they upheld strictly – including of not exiting their own territory unless absolutely necessary.

Was Lord Jason so influential he was able to invite them? How fitting!

To her, however, this surprise was just a 'regular' one. If, somehow, someone from the royal court of Iolchos came to congratulate him, then it'd be true drama!

Her eyes shone, trying to make out the faces in the crowd. It's a good thing it's a rather private party, and there's not as much individuals to make out, but her lack of experience in the outside world severely hampered her here.

She bid farewell to the mother-daughter pair to stroll around the area. Obviously, the thing she wanted to do the most – meet with Lord Jason – wasn't wise to do, as the groom was now being prepared in a rush after what seemingly was urgent business. Therefore, she tried to rack her brains to see which person would know Iolchos's situation the best.

Of course, there's every possibility the one coming here wouldn't just be a guest, but an assassin looking for trouble, but she's confident enough in her own ability to last a split second before the powerful adventurers around her could come to her rescue. It's exciting!

Another round of guests, this time several young males, entered the area. One of them made a beeline straight to Lord Jason's preparation area, where the groom greeted the newcomer personally and cheerfully.

'_Here's one!'_ Medea internally cheered, flipping through her mental encyclopedia of famous adventurers in the world.

From D-Rankers to S-Rankers, she at least knew them all by face and name!

"That should be… Sir Acastus from Iolchos! I knew it!"

"Know what?" Circe's voice spoke from _very _close to her ear, causing her to flinch. The pink-haired magus eyed the newcomer, saying, "Ah… Lord Jason's cousin? He must be brave, defying his father's orders to come here."

"There's an official order from King Pelias?" Medea wondered, her mood turning serious. Despite her thirst for a good story or gossip, when people's livelihoods, if not their outright lives, she would act without reservation. "How dare he…?!"

"Oh, he doesn't. At least, not now," Circe answered, slurping her _kykeon_ heartily. "Do you think Iolchos's army stands a chance against all the guests here? By the gods, even _you_ will be able to take a significant amount of them on by yourself!"

Medea was surprised at the unexpected praise, as she felt her skills were still nowhere close to her aunt, much less their venerated teacher. "R-Really…?"

\- Tap!

Her back was lightly smacked by the grinning Circe, who moved several errant long pink strands of hair away from her food. "Be more confident. Just do as I've always tell you to... AH! LOOK!"

Her exclamation pointed to the sky… where large globes of light descended upon the area, bright enough to overwhelm the afternoon sun, revealing two goddesses.

Hera, the Goddess of [Marriage]. Artemis, the Goddess of the [Hunt].

Their arrival marked the start of the main show: the wedding ceremony.

* * *

\- Splash… Splash… Splash…

The spring water collected in the makeshift pool is both refreshingly and painfully cold, as if purposefully done so to clear the minds and hearts of those who enter it. Both my and Atalanta's body make just the smallest ripples, our natural training showcasing itself unintentionally, causing the fragrant herbs and flower petals floating on the water to shake minutely.

By contrast, her palm firmly clenching my own is scalding hot.

Her usual reserved and cool expression is hidden under a white veil. The tradition of it manages to hold me back from cheating and using my Pure Eyes to catch a peek, though it's likely not to differ too much from my memories and imagination.

After all, no one knows her appearance better than me, in all kinds of conditions.

The spring water glimmers under the various torches placed around it, bathing the two of us with a warm orange glow. I can feel its biting chill travelling up every strand of my robe, as well as Atalanta's, which now must be almost translucent. That, and the torches' light, casts a seductive shadow wrapping around her slim waist and buttocks.

I swear… if I hear that loud lecherous gulp from behind me _one_ more time, I'll stick a sword in that person's throat, no matter who they are.

If we're surrounded by normal people, then fine – the torches aren't powerful enough to uncover Nyx's veil. However, the veteran adventurers around us are a different matter entirely…

The pond isn't large – about three ginger steps are all it takes to reach where the head priestesses of this ceremony stand.

Or, rather, _float_ on the surface of the water.

Well, it's an incredible honor to have two goddesses preside over my wedding, I can tell that much.

Artemis and Hera both have motherly smiles plastered across their faces – pride, happiness, joy, hope… all mixes into their blessings.

\- Splash…

We stop, and I rotate my body towards Atalanta, as she does towards me.

No matter how experienced I am, these Heroic Vessel fingers always seem to tremble uncontrollably at moments like these… _'Damn! Come on, man!'_

The shaking fingertips lift the translucent veil, flipping it gently over Atalanta's head. It's custom-made to fit her triangular cat ears – not hidden at all in front of friends and family – as they twitch, ticklish when the fabric passes their tips.

All the words in the speech my cousin Acastus prepared for me… _gone_.

It must be just for a split second, but… I take in all the sight in front of me, where my wife's face lies.

Blushing, with eyes lightly open in both ecstasy and embarrassment and longing, her lips part lightly, eagerly anticipating my next move.

I feel the countless blades surging in every muscle fiber and bone both cheering me on and slapping me in the face to wake me up from my stupor. Various voices – male and female, distant and intimate – push me like imaginary palms on my back, rousing the flames in my soul's forge.

I take a strand of hair by the side of Atalanta's face with the side of my palm, before using Sword Burst to cut it off to the root.

Before I can exhale my heavy breath, the hair flew, blown by Artemis's power into her welcoming bosom. "I have received your offering, o' virgin maiden. _My_ Atalanta… may my blessing accompany you and your offspring forever!"

Hera declares, "I bless your union, o' champion of mine… Jason of Iolchos, son of Aeson."

To be honest, their words bounce straight off my ears – I don't even hear them being uttered, nor do I have the capacity to feel the warmth of a divine blessing descending upon the two of us.

Because our lips have already overlapped on top of each other, under the cheers raining in the night.

* * *

**Character Sheet Update!**

* * *

**A**

**Ars Notoria**

**Title: Last Key of Solomon; Notorious Fifth Nova**  
** Predicted Class: Alter-Ego, Beast, Grand Saver**  
** Gender: Female**  
** Height: 166 cm**  
** Weight: 53 kg**

**Alignment: Chaotic Evil**

**Strength: C**  
** Endurance: EX**  
** Agility: B+**  
** Mana: EX**  
** Luck: A**  
** Noble Phantasm: EX**

**Class/Personal Skills:**

**Authority of the Beast: A**  
Notoria possessed a high-level understanding of the concept [Continuation], particularly in regards to reproductive function of a species. The skill enabled determination of purpose and meaning, regardless of the different types of knowledge, to the point of being an antithesis of religion and ideology.

**Independent Manifestation: B**  
A special skill permitting unsupported manifestation into reality. If there's a prayer asking for salvation somewhere in the world, Notoria could appear there if the person was compatible enough with herself. It increased resistance greatly towards instant-death effect and time manipulation attacks.

**Ten Thousand Colored Stagnation: EX**  
An ability to separate a target's body, mind, and soul, stripping each elements naked to her alluring charm and attacks. Notoria was able to directly interfere with any of these parts, allowing her to control anyone without sufficient self-belief and inner strength – both were required to reach a point of being inhuman in order to resist her.

**Karma Phage: EX**  
The ability to completely bestow parts or her whole strength into a number of individuals without any side-effects. Those Notoria acknowledged must inherently be compatible with her; otherwise, she would've just assimilated or killed them outright.

**Goddess Metamorphosis: EX**  
The [Shapeshift] skill pushed to the highest level, able to transform Notoria, up to her Conceptual Weight, equal into a deity herself. However, whether she received the [Divinity] required to perform and receive the same deeds as a true deity relied on her efforts.

**Noble Phantasms:**

**Heaven's Hole: Pleasure Heaven**  
** Rank: EX**  
** Type: Anti-Unit, Anti-Crown, Anti-Human**  
** Range: 1~90**  
** Max. Targets: 7**

A subspecies of the Third Magic, drawing in All the World's Desires into a hyper-dense space like a black hole. An indispensable mechanism of society, where unruly sins were buried in order to function as a unit in a population, it endlessly grew so long as there's intelligent activities being carried out.

This Noble Phantasm transformed Notoria's inner body into a Reality Marble, where anyone drawn into it lost not only their existence, but also their consciousness and will, as they were all liberated of their 'inconveniences to do good', melting into a large amalgamation of pleasure. Those drawn into the hole were overcome with ecstasy as they were erased from reality.

**Character Description**

The fifth tome of Pandora, considered both the 'oldest' and the 'youngest'. Taking on the form of a black-robed voluptuous woman with a white headscarf framing her alluring face, her appearance combined the teasing conservatism of an innocent maiden priest and the seductive immorality of the most inhuman succubus. When unleashing her true form, two arms-length horns adorned Notoria's head, a symbol of her rule over her Authority.

Possessing the attribute of [Rapture], she embodied the sexual sins sealed inside Pandora, as the All the World's Evil. Seduction, harassment, rape, violation, abnormal fetishes, and everything else was her domain, and for Notoria to use freely. She could be said to be invincible against men, though women were just equally affected by her powers – as love 'has no boundaries', according to her.

Though granted with an incredible variety of powers, her premature awakening – forced by her own conscience taking over Pandora's decision to let her mature first – caused many of her strengths to be incomplete, and at times missing. With a body made of Demon Pillars, she was all but immortal, with only specific techniques able to harm her, if not at all. It was crucial for those who faced her to take her down as fast as possible, taking advantage of her rather lax personality in the face of danger.

* * *

**P**

**Heroic Vessel PANDORA**

**Title: All the World's Evil**  
** Predicted Class: Grand Avenger**  
** Gender: Female**  
** Height: 152 cm**  
** Weight: 44 kg**

**Alignment: Chaotic Evil**

**Strength: E**  
** Endurance: E**  
** Agility: E**  
** Mana: EX**  
** Luck: EX**  
** Noble Phantasm: EX**

**Class/Personal Skills:**

**Avenger: EX**  
Born to gather people's hatred and grudges towards herself, Pandora could transform any form of damage into mana generation. The damage could also be transferred into sufficiently close acquaintances as 'sacrifices', if she recognized them as beings 'similar to herself'.

**Independent Manifestation: A**  
The ability to manifest into reality without any proper support or summoning ritual, sourcing its strength from pure willpower and Conceptual Strength. Pandora became strong against instant-death effect and time manipulation attacks. It's a representative of her separation from the Olympians and their cursed blood, becoming another being entirely – neither divine nor mortal.

**Self-Replenishment: A**  
So long as she remained motivated for revenge, the World itself would recover any energy expenditures from Pandora endlessly. The amount she received was limited for any given amount of time, though it would continue to flow until she was back to a perfect condition.

**Fate Weaver (Fake): A**  
The sins contained inside Pandora had plenty of karmic debt tied within them, allowing her to study the strings of fate through the hatred and grudges. Unlike the Sisters of Fate, who held the [True] version of this skill, her ability was much shorter in range, though outwardly and directly more powerful through close contact.

**Innocent Monster: EX**  
Pandora, the first woman, was supposed to be one of the 'Mother Goddesses', worshipped by humans around the world. Yet, her name was now synonymous with the amalgamation of all [Evil]s, distorting her appearance, ability, and attribute, even though her 'box' was the one responsible for it. This transformation could be argued to enhance her strength much more than her original self.

**Summoning: EX**  
The Magecraft which evoked spiritual bodies from various backgrounds. Here, Pandora used her body, or what it contained, as catalyst for her summons. As a result, they were extremely powerful, but sufficiently deep attacks which utilized and targeted Conceptual Weight could travel into her core. However, one must truly defeat her summons, which was a nigh-on impossible feat.

**Noble Phantasms**

**Pandora's Box: Immortal Poison**  
** Rank: EX**  
** Type: Anti-Divine, Anti-World**  
** Range: ∞**  
** Max. Targets: ∞**

Pandora's internal Reality Marble, created after her soul's distortion when the sins took over and broke the original 'Pandora', fusing into the being she was today. Unlike most Reality Marbles, she required physical contact to bring objects in, living or inorganic, but very little effort to expel its contents. If she wished to, she could cover the entire world with its effects by coming into contact with Gaia, but she would be left powerless and without control over the things she held inside. There were internal arguments whether this would recreate her original 'pure' self.

A world without happiness, where pain and suffering were the norm. its effects were especially potent against the divine beings which imprisoned the [Evil] inside her. One step would first grind down the [Divinity] attribute, before the [Corruption] began and destroyed the victims from within. Pandora might choose to spare the lives of those she consumed, though inadvertently these survivors would've been broken to the point of no return.

Though cheerful colors didn't exist inside, it was far from the monochrome purgatory of Tartaros. The variety of [Evil] inside was able to warp the surroundings and perspective of each victim, tailoring the images and senses to each individual. Therefore, it could be said Pandora's Box was empty in reality, and it's solely the victim's presence which gave it contents and meaning. Perhaps, this was a representative of Pandora's inherent loneliness and desire for companionship, but she had long been unable to feel such emotions.

**Flames of Olympus: Torch Flame Kindling**  
** Rank: A++**  
** Type: Anti-Unit, Anti-Divine**  
** Range: 2~10**  
** Max. Targets: 10**

A derivative of the First Flame which Prometheus stole. Born from the splitting of [Order] and [Chaos], it interacted with the primordial elements to create [Life], beginning with [Darkness] and [Night], followed by [Light] and [Day], which ended with [Heaven] and [Ocean]. Thus concluded the first cycle of birth, before time and space moved with reality into the cycle of death.

The source of energy which birthed Pandora in the first place. Hephaestus forged her body, mind, and soul from this element, which contained traces of [Life] and [Death] as the first harbinger of the cycle. Supposedly, the Flame of Olympus was lethal to all, even the Blacksmith God himself, thus he utilized one-use tools in Pandora's 'birth'. The only being it wouldn't consume was its 'daughter', Pandora herself.

Despite its destructive nature, it was originally a protective element after it first existed. Only Pandora's corruption transformed it into a ruthless killing machine, uncontrollable by anyone. A stable time loop was created when the sins took over the mastery of the Flame of Olympus, transforming the eternal fire ever since it was first seen until today. Its original attributes could be observed through the life born from Pandora, especially the five summoned creatures she preferred. It could also be said this was the source from where the five demons, Pandora's 'children', came from.

**Lemegeton: Clavicula Regis**  
Rank: EX  
Type: Support  
Range: 1  
Max. Targets: 5

A series of five eldritch tomes, about the size of a large table's surface each. They were paper-thin skins – sourced from many different beings – bound by enchanted metallic covers. Every part of them was mystical, and even one separated part from each tome held enough dark powers to corrupt a hero. As they were born from Pandora, they could be called her 'children' or 'limbs', exercising her will as she was physically restrained.

Consisting of five siblings: Goetia, Theurgia, Paulina, Almadel, and Notoria, they each were the amalgamation and symbolism of the infinite sins and evils contained within the limited vessel of Pandora's body. In effect, they, too, were accessories to the Pandora's Box, but ones who could move and act somewhat independently from their 'mother'. They specialized in different aspects of [Evil], and thus physically represented themselves accordingly.

Whether they could communicate freely with each other and Pandora or not was debatable, simply because they rarely were active together in the same time period. Individually, they're not strong enough to break free of Pandora's Maze, the prison holding their 'mother', but any trespassers would swiftly be brought to 'justice'. As the last part of Pandora (the Box, the Flame, and the Tomes), they held a portion of Pandora's total life force, allowing her to reincarnate indefinitely if even one of them still existed.


	17. Union, At Last (II)

**Hello, everyone! Here's the latest chapter! Of course, some of you may notice the relative lateness I publish this chapter when compared to the last few ones, but that's because I have quite a good news: For those of you who wanted to read HV-E01: IR once again, by Erithemaeus (formerly Broken Paladin), it's already up right now in my profile. Check it out for Fem!Gil lovers out there! While it's a spin-off and therefore non-canonical for this series, I work closely with the original author to make sure it's as close to it as possible while retaining originality. It will also be re-written in the near future, so look forward to that collaboration!  
**

**Like I said before, the wedding scene was one of my most satisfactory parts I've ever written. I'm glad you enjoy it. I've recently re-watched most of TYPE-MOON's newest animes to get a sense on how Magecraft's details really work, and I'll try to incorporate the lessons I learned into future chapters. There's also several confirmation regarding the story in the mailbag below.**

**Read through this mailbag:  
****Genesis09 & Eddain: Well... I want to build on Medea's feelings slowly. Maybe not until the next arc, or slightly before that time.  
Krowlein & Silver566: ****By virtue of her future incarnation, both in this story and the canonical FGO. Remember, TYPE-MOON's style of Servant classification and ratings depend a lot on the people of the era's perceptions and legends. The data I put in not only describes her current situation, but also what I want to do with her in the future. Also, it said 'Predicted Class', so it's not even definitive yet.  
AznPuffyHair: My take on Ars Notoria was the opposite: Kiara was her future incarnation, not the other way around. Please don't misunderstand this again. The 'Kratos solution' is a good shout - I do take quite a lot of inspiration from God of War, even though I don't like their lore presentation apart from their latest game.  
Stratos263: Thank you. First time writing such a romance-heavy scene without M-rated contents.  
******Lost Stardust1: ****I'm not going with that storyline in this story. Besides, that information came too late during my final drafting, so I can't and don't want to use it because it'll be too much work to retool everything in accordance to canon. Maybe there will be some allusion later regarding this, but I doubt I'll explain their presence as such. Also, did you remember how I described SHIROU's deployment into this reality? It's his second one, so the 'alien robots' should be his first.****

****Warning: M-rated scene below. Read (and comment) on your own discretion.****

* * *

"Are you regretting it already?"

Hippolyta twitched, making the fermented honey in her large mug sway violently. There's no way she'd rebuke the person who'd just surprised her – after all, Athena was a goddess… and could be considered their ancestral aunt via their patron god, Ares.

The goddess, with hair even whiter and more brilliant than her little sister's – which she considered to be the most beautiful woman in the world – looked slightly upwards to face the taller Amazon queen. Her hands and mouth were empty, unlike most who'd already partying merrily without a care in the world.

A loud 'bang' happened somewhere, but the sound occurred too often in just the past hour Hippolyta barely bothered to check what caused it. It's likely Herakles anyway – that troublemaker…

Athena's sudden question might've been vague, but Hippolyta understood its meaning completely. After all, it's not a stretch to think the Goddess of [Wisdom] would've been able to guess the tumult in her heart just by a glance.

To be fair, Penthesilea was able to do so too, with ease…

Perhaps she's not as guarded as she thought?

She shook her head, letting a few droplets of sweat drip from her black locks. "I did not regret it the moment Molpadia was born, and I do not regret it now." She waved her hand, gesturing at the party under Nyx's dark body full of stars. "Besides, what kind of person I will be to ruin such an event?"

"A jealous woman, for one," Athena swiftly pointed out, though her tone was friendly. Given their difference in status, even this was already more than uncomfortable with Hipployta. She's used to dealing with Athena's demanding brother, after all. "But I believe in you. Is your child growing along fine?"

The Amazon queen smiled. Molpadia had already fallen asleep; the long journey to Arcadia, despite using their fastest ship and boosted by Sir Shirō's power, took quite a toll on the young girl. Add to that the sumptuous feast – with plenty of salt and sugar liberally used – and she's out cold in Penthesilea's cradling arms nearby.

The princess noticed Athena's presence, and hurriedly moved to greet her, but the goddess gestured it was unnecessary. Penthesilea, doubtful, nodded in gratitude and went back to rocking Molpadia back and forth.

"I am sure you have met my 'mother', Hera?" Receiving a nod, Athena continued, "Then what do you think of your current situation? Surely, she must have said something to you about it?"

Hippolyta quietly shook her head. "There is nothing to discuss. I and Penthesilea have been raised this way – fatherless – and so will Molpadia. However, unlike my predecessors, I do recognize the benefits of having… a permanent mate to raise a child, as two viewpoints from different genders can be better than one."

"I sense there is a 'however' there among your excuses."

"It's no 'excuse', o' Athena… but an affirmation of tradition," the queen countered. "Though has long been lost among the uneducated, our ancestors received Ares's – your _brother_ – protection through this method. His strength, too, is what makes me the person I am today. I shall not forget that, and neither do the royal family, _ever_."

"Haa…" Athena sighed, disappointed. Truly, must her brother cause so much trouble after all this time? Starting from the Amazons' first ancestors, whom he recklessly fathered, even until today…

Really, what's he doing? He hadn't been lazing around in his divine duties, had he?!

Hippolyta gulped nervously at the increasing pressure emanating from the petite goddess in front of her, who was silently fuming at something she said. Now, being at an S-Ranker's wedding party wouldn't protect her – or, indeed, any other guests – from sudden outbursts of emotional power. Herakles often got into trouble with this aspect… and the one in front of her was an Olympian! Not just a demigod!

Thankfully, after a while, the pressure subsided, as Athena snatched another drink from a patrolling server harshly.

"M-Mother… d-don't drink too much…"

The feeble and timid voice made Hippolyta look down, where an adorable kid with long purple hair was carrying trays far too heavy for a girl her size, looking at Athena worryingly. She's barely any bigger than Molpadia, likely only a few years older, though the gaze in her eyes was very mature.

"I am simply cursing your uncle with all my strength, Medusa. Don't you worry; just keep having fun…" Athena grumbled, the alcohol clearly not affecting her.

'_T-That's exactly what we're worrying about…!'_ Both Hippolyta and Medusa sweat-dropped, before going on their merry way.

Athena silently sat down, eyeing the guests in the party. Having [Wisdom] as her Domain was certainly helpful. Little clues here and there, from stains on their feet to the location of their sweat marks, revealed plenty about their habits and personalities. As usual, when her gaze washed over Jason, who's peacefully flirting with his now-bashful wife, his appearance was impeccable as usual, with nary a thing Athena could use against him.

The drink in her hand had long dried up, just in time as Medusa snuggled up between the two newlyweds and promptly got spoiled, much to the girl's embarrassment, but the bright smile and relaxed happiness she emanated meant only one thing to Athena: bringing her here was the correct thing to do.

Unfortunately, with Hippolyta bringing up the matter of Ares, her mood soured.

The heaviness of the universe had already weighed her down, as Hera and Artemis had already left after blessing the two newlyweds. Athena had her methods to prolong her stay in this plane due to her mastery of the laws of the world, which was surpassed only by Hecate. That girl – even smaller and shorter than Athena – was able to roam this plane near-indefinitely, satiating her appetite for talent.

Speaking of Hecate, those two students of hers… were sheepishly eating at the end of the main table, along with the various S- and A-Rankers, with Jason and Atalanta at its head. Their behavior reeked of those stragglers who'd crash parties for free food… which was odd…

Wasn't Medea, the Princess of Colchis, and Circe, the Witch of Aeaea Island, rich enough to afford anything they liked? Or was their circumstance more complicated than it seemed?

It's unfortunate Hecate either didn't make it to this party, following her students, or wasn't invited in the first place, or she'd finally had a worthy partner to speak of regarding her plans. The other two people of such caliber – Jason and Chiron – were obviously unavailable right now, still embracing the merry atmosphere.

Because… there's a high possibility her brother, the dear, _dear_ Ares – as she thought of his name with a powerful squeezing effort – had also been compromised.

Her investigations had pretty much confirmed Poseidon was the one who threatened Medusa and indirectly responsible for Stheno and Euryale's deaths. With the evidences she had, including reports from the sea gods' maidens who she put there as sleeper agents, it's almost ready to formulate a retaliatory strike.

It's a shame those evidences weren't substantial enough to drag that damned uncle of hers into Olympus's formal court. That was, if said place hadn't _also_ been compromised.

A short conversation with Hera and Artemis earlier casted this seed of doubt in her mind. Yet another variable to account for…

In the end, it always came down to this simple question, repeatedly asked throughout history: _who's one's friend, and who's one's foe?_

Sighing for the umpteenth time, Athena resigned herself to the ceremony and joined the rest at the dining table.

* * *

"Uncle, please stop crying… Y-You're embarrassing me…" Atalanta mumbled to the uncontrollably sobbing burly man near her.

Ancaeus simply wailed even louder, clearly both drunk and _very _emotional, ruining the plate of food placed in front of him. The Arcadian princess's face glowed even redder, reaching her hand out to pinch his bulging belly. Age had taken a toll on him since the first time he found her baby self loitering in the forest – his stomach and arms had gotten soft, with his sideburns pockmarked by white hair.

"B-But… Y-You don't even have a _proaulia_… T-That damn cousin of mine…!" Ancaeus stuttered in-between large sobs, cursing King Iasus of Arcadia's decision.

Traditionally, before this wedding ceremony – _gamos_ – the bride must spend her last days with her closest relatives and friends, culminating in a large feast in the bride's father's household. Only after that, and the usual offering to one's patron deities, the wedding might begin.

Naturally, with Atalanta's circumstances with her household, that step was impossible, earning the wrath and emotional outburst from the old hunter.

Greece might be culturally free and diverse, but it had never scorned tradition. In fact, they embraced it, weaving it in their daily lives – in the morning, noon, or night, the beating pulse of divine rituals echoed through the leylines of Ancient Greece.

Atalanta didn't mind, because she held her father in very little regard, but what about her aging uncle?

"U-Uncle… we just did the _proaulia_ in your dwelling, right? You're… the most important family I have… S-So it's good enough…" She struggled to get the words out, mainly because she's not used to using so many praises in one sentence, as the tips of her ears were already steaming both from the alcohol and gratitude to Ancaeus. "Therefore, please don't cry…"

"Uuu… g-gusu… A-ATALANTAAAAAA…!" He bawled, hugging her knees. "Y-You'll leave this old man alone…!"

Asclepius's fingers darted, pressing the back of the old hunter's neck nimbly, before summarily dragging him off to one side. Clearly, the practiced movement was done by imitating the host himself, Jason, when dealing with Herakles, who suddenly had a shudder of déjà vu.

The redhead eyed the tall man. "Don't become like him. Not _today_. **Understand**?"

"Y-Yeah… sure, man…" Herakles distracted himself by wolfing down another portion of boiled meat, having polished off the roasted ones. "Anyway, Athena, is there something wrong? You look… more solemn than usual."

"I shall take that as an insult, Alcides," the petite white-haired goddess swiftly retaliated, as Herakles winced at the usage of his childhood name. "It is… something important, yes, but not nearly enough to break this happy day. It can wait."

Chiron, being as sharp as he was, immediately gathered mana in the air to create a thin layer of dark brown light, offering it in front of Athena's face.

She frowned. "Like I said, it can wait…"

"But there's no sense to delay if it's that dangerous," Jason interrupted.

He's getting rather overwhelmed, firstly because people insisted on addressing him with his real name now, instead of his more popular nickname, but also from the emotional eruption bursting forth periodically from Atalanta and the others around him. Being a Heroic Vessel, they flowed unabated inside him, coalescing into the framework of his fake emotional core.

Well, suffice to say he felt the happiest he'd been for a long time. Only when he had these days with the various lovers now residing in Unlimited Blade Works did this elation in him reached such heights.

He squeezed Atalanta's hand tighter with one hand – eliciting a loving smile from his wife – and Medusa's body in the other, causing the little girl to squirm comfortably in his lap.

The bride chuckled. "If that request form is what I think it is… why don't we use that as a honeymoon? I am an adventurer, my husband is an adventurer… By Tartarus, _everyone_ on this table is!"

She was speaking about the ethereal dark brown magic leaflet in front of Athena – an S-Ranked request, similar to the one she urgently sent out when struggling against Medusa's Gorgon form.

Everyone present could observe the myriad of emotions shifting across Athena's face – a rarity, given her own personality and the average intelligence of the people around the table – before she closed her eyes for an eerily long time.

Unlike most deities… Athena _cared_.

She cared for her priestesses, and the warriors of Athens who fought in her name when claiming unruly lands. She cared for her siblings, despite Ares's constant idiocy, perhaps more than she should, overwhelming the rationality of [Wisdom] somewhat. She cared for the people here, who had their own lives and families to take care of – heck, two among them had just gotten married!

What right did she have, as a goddess laden with not only power, but also responsibility, to demand the people here to risk their lives?

The conflict raged on inside her, where time was stretched to the maximum to give her the longest quality thinking time possible, working her Domain as hard as she could.

This was why she dove personally into Medusa, when she was overwhelmed by the Gorgon. Which other deities did as much for their own offspring? Mostly, like with Zeus and Perseus, they simply gave them some treasures and told them to bugger off. Others were _much _worse, with outright ignorance the best these demigods could hope for, because Fate help them if they were discovered by their divine parents.

The cycle of death didn't stop just between the gods – it influenced the mortals, too.

But the aura of the people around the table – even her sweet, adorable Medusa – told her otherwise.

Because these weren't just 'mortals'. They weren't just 'people', or 'adventurers'.

They were _heroes_.

When she opened her eyes, it's evident the three S-Rankers had read her line of thought, smiling knowingly at her.

With her time in this mortal plane running out, she smiled back, defeated.

"Then hear me, o' champions of champions… This is an official request from I, Athena of Olympus!"

* * *

"Fwaahhh…" Medusa cutely yawned, as she sank into her now-personal bed in her room, tucked in by her new family members.

Beforehand, she usually either shared this bed with Atalanta, or was kidnapped outright by the young woman to her room to act as her hug-pillow. Not that the experience was unpleasant – the princess was soft and fresh-smelling – but more of an inconvenience if and when Medusa's nightmares haunted her.

Shirō sat on the side of her bed, asking quietly, "How's your sleep lately? Are _they_ still bothering you?"

"Mmnnn… Not really," Medusa shook her head. "It's more like… I wake up exhausted, but not remembering what I saw. I don't feel… _bad_, just… _weird_."

He asked this because from this moment on, Atalanta had steeled herself to sleep with Shirō permanently in his room, whether he's present or not. It's only becoming after she's officially his wife; even though she didn't care of what other people might gossip about a wife sleeping in different rooms to her husband, those same lowlifes would harass Shirō's daily life; thus, her new commitment, much to her sadness.

Medusa patted the flattened lion ears on Atalanta's head, earning a soft sob from the frustrated woman.

"Don't worry, Mother has given me something she said could help me with my sleep."

"Alright, then… Sweet dreams."

With a peck on the forehead – and _much _more than a peck from Atalanta – they left. The proper end greeting should evoke the name of the god Morpheus, the deity of [Dreams], but he personally disliked it as it could be an avenue for said god, or any other, to track Medusa's position through prayers and well-wishes.

At long last, they arrived at the bridal chamber, where Atalanta, still in her wedding gown, visibly shivered from excitement.

Noticing this, he teased, "Nervous?"

"More excited about Lady Athena's mission. How could a _god_ behave that way…!" Atalanta growled.

Her husband looked sheepish, thinking earlier she's just nervous for the first night, not about something else.

Indeed, what Athena revealed was potentially able to start another _makhia_, if not outright ending this era sooner than it should've been. He neglected to share that last part with the others – perhaps only Atropos of [Fate] knew of a similar information – but the first part was easily deducible by the veteran adventurers present.

They're all still here, by the way – wedding processions, no matter how the couple tried to keep the event small and private, always got dragged more than one day, especially if that party animal Herakles was present. Formal royal weddings could preside over a month in richer city-states, which the newlyweds had no desire to emulate. Nevertheless, this meant most of the guests camped outside in their own tents… which were surprisingly well-prepared, leading to Shirō suspecting they'd already planned this from the start.

Athena's request… was an assassination on Poseidon of the [Ocean].

Well, it's not outright stated that way. She simply laid out all the evidence she could find of his recent misgivings and combining them with whatever Artemis and Hera could gather from their side. The tragedy in Shapeless Isle, the flooding of Attic Plain in Athens' founding years, and traces of rebellious thoughts reported by Apollo, who played Artemis's double agent by Poseidon's side.

Some of the adventurers were familiar with different parts of the evidences, resulting in constantly-surprised gasps at the revelations. It's particularly evident on the last one, as nothing concrete regarding the sea god's rebellious thoughts against Olympus had happened in the mortal plane yet.

However, Athena's serious face, despite her young-looking face, was enough to convince them. Her voice was heavy with her [Wisdom], enticing those who had enough intellect – even Herakles – to empathize with her and accept the request. It's a small trick the S-Rankers didn't appreciate, but they stayed silent, knowing the gravity of the situation.

Ahtena's time on this plane was short, and staying there already for a longer time than Artemis and Hera had already took a toll on her temporary form back then. Therefore, further briefing would commence later at a specified date, likely at the main Adventurers' Guild in Mycenae.

The catalyst of this request's massive undertaking was Medusa's eagerness to participate, disregarding Athena's stern words.

"_That person… killed my sister. God or not… I will have his life for them…!"_

Back then, copious amount of killing intent poured out of her small body, shocking everyone present this little girl, who was serving them drinks earlier, possessed such strength. Golden scales began to shine on her extremities, before a soft pat on the head from Shirō calmed her down.

Still, the display was enough to convince the rest to join in, their pride halfway hurt by the determination of this little girl.

Each of them went to bed that night thinking heavily of the implications of this request, mostly arriving at the same conclusion as Shirō's concerns.

Well, the Heroic Vessel's mind right now was preoccupied by… _other things_.

Chiefly, how tender his wife's naked body would look as soon as she peeled off this troublesome gown.

Still, sensing her mind's still preoccupied by other things, he asked gently, "How do you think Medusa's going to cope with this? Are we even going to take her?"

She gave him a pointed look. "Is that even a real question? Besides, you have already made up your mind, have you not?"

He chuckled. "It'd be good experience. Besides, the two of us are perhaps the safest hands to guide her to her full potential while also protecting her from undue harm. Am I wrong?"

She huffed. "…no. 'Tis just… I am worried…" Sighing, she made her way to the smaller bathing chamber – the one originally installed in this hut of hers – while clasping her hand on Shirō's fingers, dragging him in.

Compared to the purifying ritual bath from earlier, when both Hera and Artemis blessed them both, this place was 'humble' – i.e. quite _tight_. Even their occasional baths with Medusa already cramped the place, making large maneuvers difficult. It's more akin to modern Japanese apartment's bath size, Shirō thought when he first lived here, but it did provide an advantage…

It's definitely intimate, that's for sure.

"She iss growing up… 'Tis not my place to hamper that," Atalanta decided, sitting at the edge of the wood-lined metal bathtub. Her expression shifted from serious to something she only showed in front of this man beside her: a seductive, spoiled one. "Will you please, dear husband?"

She said that after stretching out her limbs, clearly wishing Shirō would undress and clean her before their first night.

The redhead grinned subtly, before kneeling down and caressing Atalanta's shoulder, earning a cute whimper from her. With one fell swoop, he traced her collarbones' lines and unclasped the fittings used to held her robe in place, peeling the thin gown like a second skin.

A moist, musky skin, garnished with excited pheromones and chilly mountain water.

Her heated gaze went straight through the Heroic Vessel's mental defenses, where his own nature betrayed him, drinking the outpouring of intense emotions without hesitation. His superior Conceptual Weight enabled him to retain his sanity – somewhat – but the dying embers in his heart, left by the women whose souls now lived in Unlimited Blade Works, blazed to life once again.

* * *

'_Salty…'_

Of course, I don't dare voice my thought out loud. Atalanta may not be a comically violent tsundere character, but I want to avoid hurting her feelings as best as I can.

Especially when tonight is her first night.

I haven't told her about my true identity yet, or my past relationships with other women. Greek culture's freedom in terms of romantic relationship bolsters my confidence to talk about this in the future – heck, I get the sense she's even trying to hook me up with Medusa… as in _right now_.

The still underage-looking girl… well, technically, her age has likely surpassed ours. Her mental growth, like the departed Stheno and Euryale, is far slower than normal, though – Athena may claim her to be the 'defect' among the triplets, but Medusa's [Divinity] is still strong enough to delay her physical growth until… perhaps a certain trigger is achieved?

Hmm… I may need to research that later…

No, I'm digressing right now. However, trying to focus can be just as dangerous as letting my mind wander elsewhere…

…because apart from the saltiness, Atalanta's skin and flesh taste absolutely divine.

I do realize the uninhibited torrent of love, lust, and every other emotion in between rushing into my artificial heart from this wife of mine, the scale of which truly makes me both happy and proud to be the only man she'll ever show them to.

"Mmhhnnn…" Atalanta giggled cutely. "We do not have all night for you to use your tongue to undress me, no?"

"I only have to uncover the important parts…" I tease, clamping my teeth lightly on her tender upper breasts, as her wedding gown is stuck at her hard nipples, refusing to uncover those reddened treasures. "Like here…"

\- Nom.

"Hss…!" She purses her lips, shivering in delight… before promptly shoving a thick bundle of wet cloth into my face.

Shaking my head, I relent, now seriously attempting to clean her properly.

"Turn around… and lift your legs…" I mutter ever command softly, since the tight confines of the bath doesn't need loud voices, and she obliges, seemingly eager to get this over and done with and into the bed for the two of us.

The wedding gown is sticking to her body both gorgeously and frustratingly. Her dip from the cleansing bathing ritual earlier did make it cling to her skin dangerously, enough for me to feel jealousy if other men casted their gaze on her translucent dress, but Hera's blessing included a drying spell to make her appearance as prim and proper as it was beforehand.

It didn't really do anything beyond that, though; as the party went on, the tropical Arcadian climate did make her sweat more – the source of the musky smell when I first got into the bath with her – since her clothes were far more intricate than even the best-dressed female guests with their expensive choices of apparel.

That was… Circe, wasn't it? I haven't seen her in a long time, but she seemed preoccupied with keeping her younger apprentice-sister, Medea, from getting into trouble, thus preventing us from catching up. It's good to see them both, even though I haven't met this younger version of Medea yet.

Still, as I scrub her nape, armpits, lithe back and pert buttocks, I can't help but get a cop or a playful bite or lick sometimes, eliciting playful giggles and moans from her. Her nape is always especially sensitive for play-biting, and right up there with the inner soft fluffy hair of her beast ears and the bony-yet-squishy base of her tail.

"H-Hey… y-you have ve s-scrubbed enough…" She pushes me slightly away with watery eyes and trembling hips. "'Tis m-my turn now…"

My robes are far simpler to undo – besides, our earlier flirting has made it looser, enough for her to undo everything with one smooth motion. As normal, it's hung up on my… _pole_, hard and long enough to poke into her stomach even from almost a foot away.

"G-Geez…"

I chuckle. "How can I help it in front of you?"

She blushes, though sharpness soon returns to her slitted eyes as she, too, seriously washes my body clean. The water isn't heated – we're too impatient for the upcoming sex to wait for that… and besides, if it was warmed, then we might start right here and now in the tub. Though the walls are close, at least the tub's big enough to accommodate us two and Medusa…

…though it may be a different occasion once she grows up into her full height, which I have plenty of memories of from 'Shirō Emiya'.

The water has a strange fragrance, specially prepared by the Guild for this day. It's less of a luxurious floral scent, or any other stupidly expensive aromatic ingredients, but more… artificially _pure_, like top-quality products from a water-processing plant. The purest of water lacks the minerals its natural version contains, which is actually what makes up for the familiar scent and taste, to the point some people may vomit after tasting pure H2O, not to mention the negative health effects it may have on the body.

Of course, this product has been enchanted, purified, and alchemized to the point it's safe for use, particularly for occasions such as this.

With every rub of my and Atalanta's hands, the water enables the cloth to remove the grime and sweat from our body with minimal effort, hastening the process tremendously.

I hiss lightly when she carefully cleans my member, from the sack, the meat rod, to the engorged tip. It's not intentionally pleasurable, but it seems she enjoys seeing my disturbed reactions and decides to switch onto her hands.

It's rare for her to go on the offensive, mostly because most of the time, she doesn't even have the chance as her body melts under the pleasure of my hands. We certainly never go all the way, for fear of incurring penalties from breaking her and Artemis's virginal vow, but the heavy petting we do is raunchy enough it doesn't really matter.

I _did_ once suggest anal… before her tail slapped me in the face lightly and caused her to sulk through that night.

"Mrgghhh…"

"Aahhnnn…"

The two of us moan almost in-sync, as our earlier impatience to finish disappears under caresses and undulations and curves and skin-to-skin and mouth-to-skin and mouth-to-mouth contact…

However, _one_ of us must be the adult in the room, and truly complete this wipe-off to take on the big stage.

Somehow, we stumble back into her bedroom, where over the years it has been modified here and there to accommodate my presence. With skin flush from the rubbing, if not the temperature around us, I lay Atalanta down onto the bed, her still-damp green hair splayed across her shoulders and ears, gently kissing her all the way.

"F-Fuhaahhh… S-Shirō… Mnnnhhh…" She tries her best to speak through the copulation our tongue and lips are doing – sometimes fast and frenetic, sometimes slow and savoring, sometimes chaste and adorable. "H-Hurry… please…"

I look down, enjoying the sight of her naked visage. The furry fluffiness of her large cat ears; her blushing, lust-filled gaze; her wet lips, lightly puffed up from the amount of kissing we did; her sharp collarbone and shoulders and thin neck; her pert breasts, capped with hardened nubs which extract blissful yelps whenever I suck on them; her slim waist and adorable navel, with her ribs' outline lightly protruding out to the side…

Then, below the waist… Of her strong, slim legs and unnaturally pristine toes and skin; of the thin, soft hair dressing her top mound; of the living, breathing pink tender folds which invites me in for a taste with all I have.

I playfully pull on her pubic hair and tenderly kisses her clitoris.

"Kyahn~ !"

'_She's drenched…'_ I eagerly clasp her outer labia with pursed lips, tenderly pulling them a few times to each side, as her thighs tremble tremendously among her moans, locking my head in place. She has grasped my hands tightly, with strength pulsating along her sharp breaths and convulsions, before a particularly hard sucking back on her rock-hard clitoris sends a gush of liquid onto my face.

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG!"

Another one of Hera's blessings, in concert with her Domain of [Marriage], is the simple but incredibly functional spell of cloaking a lovemaking session's impact on the surroundings. It's not outright blocking out all sensory output for outsiders, because a blank space inside someone's sensory range will cause some discomfort, and in turn, to discover there's actually some hard sex going on. It's more blending in the efforts exerted, such as hip swinging, splashing sounds, screams, and heavy scents with the surroundings, leading those around us to think nothing out of the ordinary is going on.

Especially Medusa.

We both agree not involving her any further in these actions until she grows up more is for the best. Even my borderline questionably intimate moments with her – those between a man and a woman, not an older person and a younger one – is far more than enough, considering what may happen if I push things too far and lead her growth to someplace I can't stomach.

It's already borderline miraculous the adult Medusa from the memories of 'Shirō Emiya' hasn't degenerated into some mindless monster, like most who experienced her turmoil often did.

Therefore, Atalanta's loud, kicking-and-screaming, squirting orgasm doesn't make it past these thin wooden walls. Oh, they're well-made – as expected from the experienced Ancaeus – but in no way fit to contain a rough sexual intercourse session from being found out.

Once again, I thank my patron goddess, Hera.

"Aaahhh… Haahhh… A-ha…" Atalanta pants heavily, the sudden arcing of her back throwing her hair in front of her face, obscuring my field of vision.

I push those green-gold strands away, revealing a seductive, wanting expression on my wife's face.

There's no sense in waiting any longer. As if reading my mind, she stretches her hand weakly to pull my face in, pecking my lips, before whispering, "I… am ready…"

\- Srrt.

"U-Ugh…!"

I almost groan loudly into the underside of her jaw, but I hold my voice in, trying my best to enjoy hers instead. A sharp intake of breath, followed by a soft, relieved hiss, escaped her moist lips, which I kiss tenderly again and again to calm her down. I can see the tips of her ears shaking heavily, standing stiffly up at one moment, flattening and flapping around the next.

I move my lips upwards, to her upper lips and nose tips, to licking the tears forming on the side of her face up to the corners of her eyes.

"'Tis… a-alright…" She weakly whispered. "These are… tears of joy… T-Therefore, I a-am not c-crying…!"

It's cute how she still wishes to look tough after all we've been through.

I think she can feel my lips morphing into a grin, as I gently rock both our hips together.

Earlier, during the first insertion, I have used my Pure Eyes to determine which points will bring her the greatest pleasure. It's impossible to predict a virgin, as her nerve endings wouldn't have developed, but just after the first insertion, this analysis is possible. Plus, my Pure Eyes of Mystic Perception won't be hindered by the small rivulets of virgin blood flowing out of her tight snatch.

But 'seeing' and 'understanding' are two completely different matters, as I have to content with the immense pleasure wrapping around my cock.

She is _tight_. It seems all women, especially those who have the physical qualities to become heroes, like Mordred and Atalanta, always accidentally forged their abdominal muscles to such a degree that their vaginal walls are incredibly strong. I doubt a normal man can even last a few seconds and live to tell the tale, much less giving Atalanta, or the other women I've met, enough pleasure.

"Mmnnh…"

Her soft moans indicate her pain has subsided, though I have little doubt in her capability to withstand it even if I go full-bore. She has been through worse, to put it mildly, but of course I seek to prevent causing as much discomfort on her as I can.

\- Buchu. Buchu. Buchu.

"Nhhaaa…! A-Ah! Ah~ ! Ah~ ! Ah~ !"

Having pierced deep just once inside her and waiting for her to get used to my size, there's little sense to start plowing like a maniac. Instead, using gentle, circular movements, I play around the area of her uterus, especially at its mouth and its surroundings, where the nerve endings I treasure are located plentifully.

\- Chupu.

"NNNGGGGGHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII…!"

She arches her back with the first exploratory poke, and the ensuing exponential increase in tightness made me groan in both pleasure and pain. It's not to the level where I need to Reinforce my dick yet, but it's nearing that very limit. The bed underneath her already has a few torn spots, where her fingers clench too tightly.

\- Chupu. Chupu. Chupu.

Atalanta's voice goes silent, as her tongue wags stiffly in the air, choking for the breaths I knock out with several more tender prods. I capture it with my own, gently entwining our two tongues and mimicking the French kissing I'm giving to her womb.

\- Nyuuu…

'_Eh?'_

I feel… _something_ wrapping around the head of my penis. A quick check with my Pure Eyes while still kissing her – to calm her down, as the pleasure is getting too much for her – reveals her womb opening has started to droop over my lower head, softly but strongly holding it in place.

It then starts to wiggle like it's alive, performing some fellatio skills Atalanta doesn't have with her _actual_ mouth.

Well, our petting session rarely involves her mouth, as she'll too often go limp too quickly after I caress or lick her for an extended period of time. Seeing her weak body doesn't arouse any aggressive behavior from me, far from it; it just makes me appreciate the ordeals she's going through every single day to exhaust her energy this quickly, because she's, after all, a regular mortal. Not a demigod, not an inhuman being, not a Heroic Vessel.

She struggles in lifting her head to re-connect our kiss as I slightly pull away to look at her womb's mouth, revealing a bridge of saliva connecting our lips. I smile to reassure her and reach out to stroke her sensitive ears, but unexpectedly, she uses what remains of her strength to lean her head weakly to another side, clearly averse to my touch.

I first think she's just too sensitive and tentative this touch will send her over the edge with no chance of return, but she softly whispers, "N-No… Not there… T-Today, I-I am your wife… M-Make me yours… _right here…"_

She grazes my fingers, leading them to place themselves over her navel, right where the ends of our genitals are meeting in her abdomen.

"I want to make you feel the greatest pleasure," I protest. "Can I not do that?"

"T-This… i-is my f-first request a-as your w-wife… Y-You should i-indulge…" Panting, she complains by nudging her nose hard into my neck.

I laugh heartily, though not as hard as I like, because I have to keep some energy for the 'finishing touches'.

"I understand, my princess."

A wave of union of magic energy, one bluish-silver, one green-and-gold, washes over the room, soaring high into the sky as a tribute to our patron goddesses.


	18. The Morning After

**Hey, everyone! Welcome to the Ch. 18 already! Wow, how time flies... Before I start with anything, the re-upload of HV-E01: IR (originally written by Erithemaeus, formerly ****Broken Paladin) is finally finished. I'm not saying it's a finished story, but whatever I had of that one, I've uploaded all of it in my profile. The re-write should hopefully be up in the near future.**

**Now, speaking of _this_ story, I'm glad the M-rated scene went down well. I know it's not perfect ****– the reason to that is outlined in one of the mailbags below ****–but hopefully I can improve in the future. Let me know of this site's baseline and limit regarding these kinds of scenes, so I won't get banned and forced to remove this story.**

**Here's the mailbag!  
T-B-R: I'd love to, but I'm not sure that's how the TYPE-MOON world works... I'll see what I can do, however.  
Mo Eazy: ****Thank you for the criticisms. I agree with most of them, mainly regarding the sexual scenes. I wanted to write a full-blown steamy sex-filled chapter, but I'm doubting my own judgement for the level FFn wants to maintain before it decides to warn/ban me. So I'm using this story to gauge whether my series is going to be raunchier or not in the future. If you have any concrete suggestions to the level I should achieve, then please speak out. Regarding the other scenes, well... I guess they're intentionally flat? I picture it as an appetizer to whet the readers' appetite for the upcoming sex scene.  
Mythic Imagination: ****Thanks for the review! To be honest, I expect some readers who are more intimate with Ancient Greece mythologies to be able to pick up which antagonists I'm going with, since the real historical canon portrays most deities as both villains and heroes. The gods flip-flop between being helpful and spiteful all the time, and the ones who have the tendency to cause trouble are the ones I tend to use as antagonists. Unlike modern times, where (fittingly) Equivalent Exchange is prized in various forms of worship and religions between the main deity and the worshipers, it is strange how Ancient Greeks still maintain their zealotry towards deities who destroy and curse wantonly, sometimes against their own worshipers, nonetheless.**

* * *

Iasus rubbed his temples, with a myriad of emotions taking their toll on his brain.

The latest report in front of him not only managed to make him sigh in disappointment, but also in anger.

Who placed the report on his _sole daughter's_ marriage on the bottom of the pile?! Really, who was it?! He'd execute them on the spot!

They have _one_ job: monitor Atalanta, and coax her back into the palace. Pan's curse on him was incredibly potent; not even his adoptive children survived. As punishment of abandoning her in the mountains – as a child was always a gift from god – he was forever sentenced to a life of sterility, both physically and status-wise.

As the fresh forest night air blew through his room's ventilation, fluttering the edges of the stacks of parchments on his desk, he grunted alone.

He tried to circumvent the curse by taking in children. There were many occasions when a nobility's child was abandoned or thrown out due to various reasons, so he tried sourcing several as recompense to the god Pan, of the [Wild], but it was too late. They all received 'accidents', one after the other, killing them mercilessly. Their blood parents didn't know, of course, because they're just as much of a scum as his younger self was – not wanting to know about anything regarding their sins, so they wouldn't feel guilty in the slightest.

Like his daughter, he was blessed by a dirty golden hair – as Atalanta's jade hue was acquired later in life as she matured under Artemis's protection – which he promptly messed up with his fingers.

His wife had long left him to join one of the temples, dedicating herself into secular life, after she found out about his decision. At that time, as she opened her tired, sweaty eyelids, she glanced over around her for her husband and child, eager to see the cute little baby… only for her midwives to inform her of her husband's cruel decision.

To say she's _pissed_ was an understatement.

Without even saying anything, not even to the worried inquiries from her loyal maids, the then-queen packed up her belongings – simple stuffs, with just the clothes on her back – and hijacked a horse from the stables, running away from the castle.

That day, Iasus lost the two most important women in his life… not that he realized this about Atalanta until many years later.

It's too late to cry now.

It's not the fact he missed her wedding, far from it. Having realized his mistakes after these years of punishment, he had stopped considering himself as her father, though his guilt still woke him up late at night. It's also not the fact she didn't even invite him – no surprise, there.

As a king, though, it's a different matter entirely.

His people throughout Arcadia needed a ruler. After he passed away, would his kingdom be reduced to dust, torn apart by feeble infighting and invasions?

Certainly not.

One positive thing about all which had happened was the reluctance of various nobles and members of royalties to approach him with their usual ass-kissing. They all thought if Iasus was to pick one of them as his heir, then Pan's curse would be inflicted upon them as well.

As a result, his days as a ruler were mostly spent in peace, with nary a whisper of rebellion. After all, all he had to do was take advantage of the rumors and declare the rebellion leader his successor. Those nobles and royalties weren't stupid, and they'd thought of the same thing.

The contents of the report were predictable, at least. The identity of her groom had become public knowledge, at least to the commoners who gossiped all the time about celebrity relationships daily. Her wedding shouldn't be known formally until weeks later, when small news pieces would naturally leak throughout the lands, as Atalanta was famed for being reclusive of her private matters.

He knew from the fact an envoy was seen leaving Iolchos just days prior, with one man leading it – Acastus, Jason's cousin and King Pelias's son. They're leaving under the cover of night, disguised as merchants… which only made them stood out more in the eyes of the professionals Iasus employed to monitor the kingdoms around him.

Arcadia's lands were lush and fertile, prime target for any conquerors. He'd be a fool if not being paranoid enough to watch over everything which transpired within his kingdom, despite its undulating natural terrain making it difficult. Acastus was especially naïve enough to pass through one of the official checkpoints at the Arcadian borders, believing his disguise was good enough.

Where on earth was a merchant guarded by mercenaries brandishing weapons marked with royal engravings? One of the keen-eyed inspectors informed the closest authority in-charge there, who reported this matter back to Iasus.

Still, it's annoying to see _this_ report was what greeted him at the bottom of the reports pile, not at the very top… where _very important_ stuff should be placed.

The attendant he ordered to find the person who delivered this report still hadn't returned, adding to his annoyance.

He eyed the torn-up letter by his side, which he read prior to scanning this latest report.

It was a letter from King Pelias, who found out about the same thing, but was too late to send anyone to stop his 'wayward son' – quoted directly from the letter – as Acastus was already inside Arcadian territory by then. He then wrote many convoluted things, not helping Iasus's headache, before concluding with an assassination request.

To kill an S-Ranker in his own wedding party, where for sure there'd be the _other_ 2 S-Rankers present?

'_He really has gone senile…'_

In his heart, Iasus admired Pelias as a fellow ruler. Oh, he knew of the latter's devious plan when he seized Iolchos's throne from his older brother – as did most rulers in Greece, but what's commendable was Pelias's effort to rule ably and justly, not an easy thing to do by a good person, much less an evil one.

Therefore, over the years, Iasus had always thought of this man as competent and ambitious – not a lacking combination of character to have, albeit slightly unpredictable. The last attribute became more and more pronounced as Jason spread his name far and wide across all kingdoms, and especially when the first of the rumors started.

The spreading speed of Pelias's misdeeds led Iasus to suspect it's intentionally leaked – by the S-Ranker himself, most likely – but it certainly harmed the then-respected king. Of course, it's all rumors, anyway… _intentionally_ kept so, as if it's the work of an experienced, knowledgeable, borderline clairvoyant old sage. Certainly not one of a young man, barely of marriageable age, who had just become Iasus's son-in-law by proxy.

He dreaded now his decision to send someone a few times to ask Atalanta to return… because right now, if she did decide to do so, then this… _man_ would also come along with her.

And very, _very_ likely to hold the same level of contempt towards the Arcadian king as his wife.

Every mortal had their limits, and Iasus had suddenly decided he had reached his, shutting down for the night.

* * *

Medusa was crying.

She felt like she's been doing this too much lately, to the point where sometimes she felt an entire lifetime's worth of salty water had been spilled from her body, but there's always _something _which always triggered more and more being produced.

"What a crybaby… Like always," Stheno teased, patting Medusa's head, which was resting deeply in her flat chest with a tearful hug.

"Kufufu… How dreadful you look, little sister," Euryale chided, patting Medusa's back, holding their youngest sister up to assist Stheno's exertion.

\- Sniff. Sniff. Sniff.

"Uuu… Uguu…" Medusa's tiny shoulders trembled, overwhelmed by emotions she herself couldn't describe. "I'm sorry… S-So sorry… Sisters… I-I'm sorry…"

She repeated her apologies over and over again, as the gentle breeze of Elysium fluttered around them, letting flower petals of various shapes and sized fly around gently. If this was the mortal plane, then the kicked-up pollen would've likely caused either one of the three siblings to sneeze hard, ruining the moment.

But this was Persephone's Domain, the [Underworld]. Having taken control over this place after the demise of Chronos of [Time] and Rhadamanthus's retirement – the former Judge of the Dead – she was able to grant Medusa's presence here, owing to a favor asked by Athena.

The Goddess of [War] had fought bravely for Persephone's sake when Hades, Athena's 'uncle', abducted her in a fit of lust. Despite now having accepted her position as his wife, she still remembered how fiercely the always-dutiful and responsible Athena battled in the eventual loss, as they were picking flowers with Artemis. It could be said the three of them were childhood friends, though their friendship began much later than mortals, of course.

She could only smile in pity at the reunion of Athena's three 'daughters', though they're not born according to the natural order.

"To be frank, I'm getting jealous how much you enjoyed your new family, Medusa," Stheno pointed out, as Medusa's shoulder twitched.

"I am beginning to think you have forgotten us, and casted us aside for your new home," Euryale added, before Medusa's sobs began to get harder.

At the very least, the two immediately apologized for the inappropriate joke and warmly embraced the little girl, hugging her warmly. Persephone was about to interfere when she heard the deceased twins' words, thinking those were coming from inherently evil characters, which definitely weren't fit for the pure Elysium.

Not that she's nosy or anything. This was _her_ Domain, and fit for her to know, listen, act on, and react to anything in it.

Well… _maayyybbbeeeeee_ she liked to gossip every now and then. But, hey, having the usually inert Hades as one's husband tend to make one crave for subtle entertainment every now and then.

The three siblings, who're supposed to be triplets if Medusa's… _uniqueness_ didn't exist, somehow… merged into one in front of her eyes.

Persephone, shocked, rubbed her eyes to reconfirm what she had just seen… and yes, they're now _one_.

She started to sweat, dreading what she would tell Athena as an excuse if something happened to Medusa, who's now practically like a niece to her.

The three now morphed into one gigantic golden snake with one large single eye at its head. Its snout was far too sharp at the tip and fat at the jaw hinges to be natural, forming what looked like a triangular maw, with innumerable sharp straight horns forming a jagged mane on its nape.

Persephone couldn't get a good look of its face to reconfirm its finer details, but she could certainly appreciate the beauty of its glittering golden scale, seemingly as soft as a baby's skin, but even from her position, felt… _invincible_…

…to the point she's starting to take bets for it against some members of the Olympians.

'_Ah… what to do…'_ she panicked internally. Of course, nothing here could harm her as the master of this Domain. The three Gorgon sisters barely even developed their own Authority, much less had either been granted or formed a Domain of their own. It's possible in the future, sure, as the youngest sister's potential far surpassed her elder sisters, but not _now_.

Unless… there's an outside interference causing this phenomenon… and now she's in danger?

She shook the idea off from her head. What she sensed from this… _creature_ wasn't animosity or other malicious intent.

Instead… it seemed… _content_? Happy, even?

Like a legendary beast forming back its body, after eons of being separated far apart…

Then, like a dream, it phased out of existence, leaving the still-hugging trio in their original place. However, now the three of them were smiling lovingly at each other, their tiny fingers interlinked with each other. The goddess caught what looked like droplets of tears falling down either side of the elder twins' faces, though like before, she chose to keep her distance so as to not ruin the atmosphere.

Their happiness is the most important thing, especially because this was a personal request from Athena.

After all Persephone had been through, and what Athena had done for her… if the Goddess of [War] demanded her life, her Domain, and her Divine Essence, Persephone would gladly oblige without a second thought.

Her eyes glowed dangerously, exhibiting the strength she inherited from both her mother and husband – of [Fertility] and the [Underworld], respectively.

She heard of Athena's suspicions of Poseidon – theoretically their uncle – from Artemis. Persephone couldn't help but inwardly smirk at how Athena tackled things: always alone, relying on her [Wisdom], as it made her instantly the most understanding individual in the world. Over the ages, it had unknowingly cast an impenetrable wall around her, as she instinctively distanced herself from everything which could compromise her rationale.

However, Medusa's presence right here and now proved Athena was changing. No longer the cold, calculating, and pragmatic girl so long ago, the passion Persephone witnessed when Athena dueled Hades to a standstill with everything she had, just to rescue her and earn time for Demeter, her mother, to arrive… had returned.

She was sure of it.

Then, as her sister, how could Persephone stay idle when Athena needed her, now?

That was why she was panicking so much when the Gorgon sisters transformed – it would've meant she failed the Goddess of [War] and [Wisdom], a thing more horrible than death to her. To have Athena's daughter in _her_ possession, _her_ responsibility, and still lost her to something strange and trivial, without an explanation? Persephone was ready to fully use her abilities to rescue Medusa, even if it meant separating her from her elder sisters, just to keep her safe.

Luckily, it didn't turn out that way, enabling Persephone to exhale a relieved sigh.

Because wasting her powers now would be… unfortunate. She needed to stockpile it, just in case she had to murder her husband and uncle, after all.

It's only natural to help her 'sister', right…?

* * *

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

To be honest, it's not how Atalanta would've liked to wake up from what could be described as the happiest night in her life. After their first simultaneous orgasm, which she _totally_ didn't pass out – despite Shirō's teasing later in the night – he started to move how he'd like without any more regard to her own pain, which was the way she wished for it to go.

He's spent too much of his life catering to her various whims and selfishness. Now an adult _woman_, the guilt in her took over and wanted him to now be selfish himself with her, instead of always being on tip-toes. He'd been like this ever since her near-rape experience, when she's still untrustworthy of other people, but hadn't lessened his guard around her even until now.

They're now husband and wife, after all. Nothing should be kept within them, as they'd bear each other's success and failures together.

Now, only after that she'd admit she _did_ pass out. Several times, in fact – only to be woken up by orgasm after orgasm… then passing out again.

Skillfully, both she and Shirō jumped off from their bed and wrapped blankets around their naked, sweaty body, rushing out by the sound of Medusa's chilling scream.

The elation, ecstasy, and adrenaline from last night compounded with this new emergency, causing her heart rate to rise dangerously, making her slightly light-headed, but a quick flush of magic energy enabled her body to regain its normal function. Shirō, as always, was his impeccable self every time something came up, and was the first to silently but quickly open Medusa's bedroom door.

"What."

Their collective response was muted, rather than full of shock.

After all, it's not every day one could see a little girl suddenly age several years into her late teens.

"U-Uwaaahhhhhh… W-What's g-going on with m-my body?!" Medusa shrilly checked herself all over, which resulted in… _interesting_ sights.

Her robe, naturally, had burst open at the seams, revealing a toned stomach and the underside of a well-sized pair bulges above it, as well as fleshy thighs sandwiching whatever remains of the cloth to cover her private parts.

In fact, her hair was the only thing which hadn't gotten exponentially longer. Instead of it brushing on the floor like before, even after being braided, it's now well-suited for her new height, which looked about to match Atalanta already.

The Arcadian princess was about to rush forwards, fearing a terrible curse had befallen her beloved family member, but Shirō circled his arm around her waist and turned her around, shoving her out of the room.

"Stay there! And don't look back!"

The tone in his voice left no room for argument, so Atalanta patiently stared at the wall, her fists clenched into whiteness as her frustration nearly boiled over, straining them against the wall.

"Mgh…!" She heard Shirō's grunt from behind her, meaning that once again, he had taken the pain which was supposed to be _hers_, much to her dismay. Would it actually kill him if he let her take charge for once?! Really?! Not giant monsters, not errant demigods, not divine interventions – but _idleness_, it seemed, was the one thing which could defeat this S-Ranker.

"S-Shirō! N-No; stay away…!"

"I refuse!" He chided Medusa, and a soft 'thud' indicated to Atalanta's cat ears he had embraced Medusa, and perhaps was dispelling whatever danger he perceived earlier.

She heard Medusa pleaded, "I can't control it…! P-Please…!"

However, his tone had become much calmer. "It's alright. See? I'm fine… I promised you I'll be strong, right? Now, it's your turn to step up and be the same." She heard his hand ruffle the young girl's hair – no, teenager, now – and continued, "Alright, follow my lead: inhale, exhale…"

He repeated his mantra several times, until he suddenly said, "Atalanta, it's safe now. You can come in."

She turned around sharply with a sulk, much to Shirō's and Medusa's surprise. With her form all over them, she berated, "I can handle that too! Why must you put yourself in danger, over and over and over and over and over again! I'm your _wife_, and Medusa is strong, too! Believe in us a bit more!"

She fumed until her ears and tail were shaking rigidly, showing this wasn't just a simple annoyance, but genuine wrath.

The other two were both rather scared and warmed by her concern, and Shirō immediately pulled her close and kissed her on the lips to parlay her anger. Atalanta reciprocated briefly, before throwing her face away with a "Hmph!", sitting at Medusa's other side and checking the now-teenager's body by herself.

She knew the dangers of sudden growth – even if it wasn't a curse and just a quirk of Medusa's own body, she's seen too many disfigured animals with unnatural growth hormones waste away and died, simply because it imbalanced their bodies too much against the natural order. A small nerve pinch here, a small bone growth there, a minor muscle expansion at the wrong place… all could _kill_ just as easily as an incurable plague!

And Shirō's taking it on, by himself, again!

"A-Ah… I-I'm now fine…" Medusa stammered, as Atalanta's hands were, as always, very _thorough _in their search.

At last, they reached to the sole remaining feature they hadn't reached – Medusa's eyes.

Atalanta gasped at their brilliant beauty, and at the same time cursing herself for not noticing them earlier.

Glittering with multi-colored refractions, her irises framed geometrically-perfect square pupils. They were literal jewels, far more desirable and enchanting than any riches she had ever seen, accompanied by a mysterious cursive red letter on Medusa's forehead.

"What is this?"

Shirō was the one who explained. "It seemed whatever caused her growth made her sealed powers go berserk momentarily earlier. It could be fatal for everyone _here_," he gestured to the windows, where they could see the various tents from the staying wedding guests, and added, "Therefore, I took the decision to secure it myself, since I'm familiar with it. If it offended you, my wife, then I'm sorry."

"I… I'm just worried, okay?!" She forced out, rather embarrassed by her outburst now, her ears and tail losing their earlier feistiness. "Medusa, if I scared you…"

\- Shake. Shake.

The young teen gingerly smiled. "It's alright… I know you only did that because you cared… Mugu?!"

Her words were cut off as Atalanta pulled her into her arms, smothering her with a strong hug. "Uuu… Now you're too big… and not good to hug…" She sniffed, her tail flattening sadly. "I hope you grow cutely…"

'_T-That's your main concern?!'_ Both her husband and Medusa sweat-dropped mentally.

* * *

Unusually, Herakles woke up bright and early.

Contrary to popular belief – which even his wife unfortunately believed – he actually preferred an early rise to his day. He did have divine blood flowing within him, but his human side still demanded optimal sleep cycles to perform at its optimum. It might be practically useless, as his divine part could take care of any negative impacts of a late night-late morning habit, so it's perhaps just a placebo effect.

Sadly, his recent hobbies meant these moments were far and few in between. Hey, it's not his fault he had more money than he or his family could spend – might as well use it on excellent wines!

However, Jason's strict control over everything served in his wedding meant there was a distinct lack of pounding headache when Herakles woke up. By the gods, the groom might have cooked everything himself! Considering what the demigod knew of the other S-Ranker, there's a good chance it might be true.

Back then, there was a thought which made him unconsciously grin every time he recalled it. It's how different the three S-Rankers were, both in terms of abilities and personalities.

Chiron, as the oldest, had the widest range to cope with other people, making him seem kind and accepting… perhaps even slightly a pushover, which was the farthest from the truth. Jason – Herakles was too used to this name to consider his nickname – was meticulous and intense, as even his casual moments could shift into strong words and emotions, which were the basis of his Magecraft.

Herakles liked to consider himself an earthly person, easily swayed by worldly pleasures, but he saw it as keeping his ambitions in check. In his ascent to the S-Rank, he had too often seen megalomaniacs with overflowing ambition to surpass the gods and the universe itself – which _always_ ended up in uncountable innocents suffering and dying.

Therefore, let people talk and say things about Herakles. He knew what he was _inside_ – both Alcides and the demigod, son of Zeus – so he could care less what those naysayers thought. Besides, they usually clammed up whenever his fist pulverized his target into fine red mist.

They soon started clamoring to be his friends, all of a sudden converting from his critiques to his fans. Funny how quickly things could change with a bit more power.

"Oh? You're up early…" Chiron dryly commented, lightly dusting himself off from the cobwebs of sleep, yawning. "Can't sleep?"

"Really? You too, Master?" Herakles complained at the stereotyping, much to the centaur's silent confusion. Looking at his face, the large man waved his hand in frustration. "Forget it. I was thinking of something else."

"Clearly. You usually never think much lately," his master added to the mental injury.

Well, there was a _reason _for the stereotyping, Herakles guessed. Perhaps his style worked better in high-pressure, low-risk situations, where brute force could literally save everything. In high-risk events, he simply used more of them appropriately, until the problem stopped coming back. So far, nothing bad had happened to either him or his family with this way of life, so he persisted in it. For a person as successful as him, suddenly changing his working methods was amount to career suicide.

Of course, he had no idea that many of Hera's machinations against him were quelled by Jason's relationship with her. Yes, he did allow some divine punishments to fall through if Herakles deserved it, but the goddess's enmity towards the demigod – to the point Alcides felt the need to change his name – was far different compared to her own self in another reality, another dimension.

Chiron had an inkling about this… regarding Jason's mostly-correct 'prophesies'. However, the centaur deliberately chose to distance himself from all matters related to Jason's _real_ patron god, sensing he's out of his depth there. Besides, he's not the type to lay accusations left, right, and center at anyone with circumstantial evidence, so he kept silent. Herakles's and Jason's relationship was good enough for Chiron to maintain this attitude.

Smiling with mirth, Chiron offered the demigod a cup of steaming tea. "Cup for your thoughts? Or… was it still about Lady Athena's words?"

"Exactly," the large man said, whose sitting position was still tall enough to match Chiron's human form's standing height. "This… has never happened before. A direct, no-holds-barred movement from one god against another… This is _war_."

He looked, only to find the centaur with his usual calm expression – the one which made his long hair and chiseled face looked like they're carved from nature itself. It's strange seeing it on a human's body, as Herakles always associated this expression to Chiron's centaur body.

"Have you so little faith in Lady Athena's ability? I am not even questioning mine, yours, or Jason's – that's a given – or even the guys around us right now. However, I shall ask you: Have Lady Athena failed in her judgement?" Chiron inquired. His hands moved quickly, setting up several privacy arrays around them. "To be frank… her [Wisdom] was what made her the most dangerous deity in Olympus… even to her relatives and elders."

His student silently nodded, having already grasped a rough understanding of this fact through his career. "I know. I simply… perhaps this was the mind of a person with something to lose?"

Pausing momentarily, Herakles continued, "Megara wasn't Atalanta. Her declaration last night was mesmerizingly brave and bold… but she's _strong_. My family isn't, in terms of physical might. And you need _a lot_ of them to contest the gods, especially one with the caliber of Poseidon."

Inwardly, Chiron was surprised at his student's forethought. Not that it's bad, mind you – he's been waiting for Herakles to mature into this person ever since he was 'Alcides' – but it's surprising nonetheless.

"I know it's not because you are afraid, so I shall tell you what you are feeling: _love_," Chiron pointed out. "But I'm sure you have realized this already. After all, you are my best student."

To the centaur's smile, Herakles sarcastically replied, "I _was_ your best student. Don't misrepresent the groom in his wedding day, Master."

The two of them chuckled, to the background tune of people awakening from their slumber.

* * *

"Everything's normal," Asclepius declared, wiping his palms off with a piece of cloth, sitting behind Medusa for her check-up. "Though unusual, it's not the first case like this I've encountered – and hers is the closest thing to a best-case scenario among them."

The purple-haired young girl – no, young _woman_, now – sighed in relief. Atalanta also did the same behind her, knowing what's at stake.

Sudden growths could mean a bone protrusion here, a torn ligament there… and plenty more issues with future livability. There's absolutely no desire from Atalanta to see Medusa suffer like that… unlike the target Athena had given them yesterday night.

Both A-Rankers bade farewell to the young woman, who went on to look for and report to Shirõ of her exam results.

Also… there was another reason why Atalanta sent her off.

Going straight to the point, she said, "Asclepius, please check for my pregnancy."

The medical expert lightly froze at the directness of the request, before narrowing his eyes and trying to rein in his annoyance. This was one of the types of patients he hated the most: one who demanded things which were improbable. She's probably only got one night of good fucking, right? How did she assume he, despite his divine skills, would be able to ascertain whether there's a live fetus in her right now?

However, his pride didn't allow him to refuse the challenge.

That was one of the boons of being a high-ranked adventurer, especially one who made their way up like Asclepius. Unlike Atalanta, who excelled in martial prowess, and also perhaps most other A-Rankers, he specialized in support roles, mainly healing spells and diagnosis. To be promoted into this rank despite his lacking combat skills only showed how talented he was in this field, having surpassed his teacher, Chiron, several years ago.

Still, to rise further, he'd need to learn some combat techniques… but it's too late now. Compared to other adventurers, who trained since their youths – including Atalanta – it's simply too late for him to embark on this path. Besides, his personality simply wasn't suited to it – despite his often crass and blunt manners of speaking and thinking, he disliked hurting other people… which was quite a necessity if he trained in physical combat.

However, he did have his pride… especially in front of a peer – a master, let's say, as an A-Ranker should be, and one Atalanta definitely was.

"Let's see what I can do."

With that, she daintily sat down on the prepared chair, where she placed her back facing Asclepius. He promptly channeled his Od to his fingertips, brushing her spine, before firmly palming her lower back, right where her womb was.

It's fortunate she had the insight to hide her tail this time, or it'd interfere with the reading. Asclepius was more used to examining regular human beings, and Atalanta's half-beast form would incite several anomalies in his readings, despite her excellent control over her own self. Traces of Artemis's Divine Blessings would inevitably surface whenever she assumed her true form, making accurate readings difficult.

And now, for Asclepius's specialty… [Palpation].

Its modest name indicated its background: that of ancient shamans rubbing and touching their patients to judge their condition. Over the ages, experience, knowledge, and failures were all bundled together, processed, and passed over to be improved by the next generation.

Well… Asclepius's talent and skill disregarded all that.

Under Chiron's tutelage, he blossomed, and this basic skill became his most trusted and able. With just a touch, he could read an individual's entire physical history: where and how they're born, what they're fed with up to this day, how active was their sex life… and so forth. He mastered it to a point where he could use his eyesight alone to discern minor injuries and disabilities, especially those small enough for his patients to cover them up with a healthy dose of pride.

Unfortunately, as he predicted, it's too soon to confirm to the woman in front of him whether she's expecting or not. He could use his other skill, [Divination], to ascertain her chances in the future, but his annoyance at her made him reluctant to do so.

Why was she so eager, anyway? Did she want to retire temporarily from adventuring? Or was that exactly the point – she wished to hear a 'No!' from him, which meant she could accompany her husband and the people present to Atlantis, where Poseidon resided?

Well, if that's her game, then… he'd oblige.

"I'm not picking up anything," he admitted truthfully. "If you want to gauge your chances for future reference, then…"

"No, that's enough. I trust your judgement," Atalanta curtly replied, abruptly sitting up like a scalded cat, though her face was as taciturn as always.

Asclepius clicked his tongue audibly at the impolite gesture, though she certainly didn't mind it. She just didn't care for his opinion regarding her manners… no, she just didn't care _full stop_. Not even Chiron could tell her off – that privilege was reserved for Shirõ, Asclepius assumed.

Sighing, he prepared for other patients as she stepped away from his tent. Forecast for today… was a healthy dose of hangover.

Just in time, then, for a scraggly-looking Circe to stumble in, her black wings looking disorderly and frayed.

* * *

There's very little moments in her life when Medea could remember trembling for any sorts of reasons, but it had been happening more and more often lately.

The last time was in anger, at the knowledge of her father willingly hired mercenaries not just to bring her home, but they were fully intent on _hurting_ her and her aunt to do so. The time before that was when Circe tricked her into embarrassing situations in their trip here – so eventful that was, there's too many events like that to remember clearly.

Oh, she loved Circe… but it didn't prevent her from getting annoyed at her antics. She knew the older magus meant well – to 'un-stiffen her life', so to speak – but her attempts reeked of experimentation and inexperience, acting more like how old Circe looked, instead of her actual age.

And now… was about shivering in excitement in front of her greatest idol – Prince Jason of Colchis.

She added the royalty title on her own, as she had decided he deserved that much, at least, in her mind. Screw King Pelias!

'_O-Oh, no… C-Calm down, Medea…'_ She repeated that mantra over and over again in her head, mentally slapping her cheeks together, as Sir Σείριος autographed one of the tomes about him.

Honestly, she felt ridiculous handing in that book, bright and early in the morning, right after what must be the best night of his life. Wouldn't she just ruin the experience for him? What if he found the tome's contents to be disagreeable – which might very well be so? The lack of concrete information in this era, despite the rare availability of long-distance magical communication, meant most stories were sourced by word of mouth, ending up in a massive exaggeration of an individual, either positively or negatively.

What if her early rise from bed meant her robes were disorderly? They're already pretty thin, after all, and quite seductive… O-Oh, what if Lady Atalanta disliked her appearance and got jealous? Far from being flattered at being attractive enough to Sir Σείριος, Medea got scared instead. Other than that, did her hair look right? Her skin's not dry, was it?

Thousands and millions of simulations were running full-speed in her head, in the time Shirõ spent to autograph and write a trivial congratulatory poem.

It's quite difficult living the celebrity life, he mused and joked internally, as there's no equipment to print out and spread copies of memorabilia to ease his work. As it was, he had to do this every single time there's an admirer approaching him. One, Atalanta might not like them – she had patchy moods in terms of his fans, both males and females, to the point he struggled to understand it – and two… his hands got tired.

Using Reinforcement in this task seemed too trivial, so he refrained from doing so unless absolutely necessary.

Oh, he could've made a printer, CD machine, and so on from the available materials, and especially with the widespread and powerful uses of Magecraft in this era, but it'd just draw unwanted attention, as well as becoming unneeded work, to him.

He just smiled at the cute young girl shivering at the edges of his vision in front of him, as he'd never seen Medea act like this through the memories of either EMIYA or 'Shirõ Emiya'. To them, Medea was always the bewitching, dark adult woman who schemed as easily and frequently as she breathed. Oh, they all knew she's not a bad person on the inside, but her warped personality was such it's hard to trust her, and even the best of 'Shirõ Emiya' only became respected – not _liked_, necessarily – by her until nearly a year of constant interaction.

Closing the tome with a soft 'thud', he gently spoke, "You don't have to be so nervous, you know."

"B-But… I-I crashed y-your wedding…" she mumbled out her excuses, having clearly been caught after a brief check at the invitees' list.

He chuckled. "It might be private, but Circe was a good acquaintance of mine. I don't have to like her antics, but she did do several good things – namely, bringing you here."

"E-Eh?! W-What do you m-mean?!" She stammered out, her brain clearly not thinking clearly with the deep shade of blush she sported up to the top of her head.

"I heard you got into a bit of a mess in Troy."

\- Poof!

'_Ah, there she goes…'_ Shirõ mentally commented, as Medea slapped both her palms onto her face to cover the explosion of blush and heat. However, he didn't want to chide her for anything – in fact, quite the opposite. "I don't think that's a bad thing, so you shouldn't kick yourself too much."

She placed her forehead on the table, persistent in not letting her idol see her embarrassed face. "U-Uuuu… H-How d-did you know that…? M-My life is r-ruined…"

"Ahahaha… Well, I got my own sets of ears and eyes everywhere," he drily chuckled, patting the still-smoking blue hair. "You did good. Also, Circe boasted about you quite a lot last night."

\- BANG!

"Aunt…!" She grumbled loudly, banging her forehead once onto the table deliberately to quell her anger. "S-She didn't just…!"

'_Really?! To this man?! Knowing how much he means to me…?!'_ She screamed in her head, her hands flashing to pull up her hood to bury her face into the ground. At least, that's what she felt like doing right now. Perhaps to get a shovel to dig herself _really_ deep would be good, too?

"Haha… Well, please raise your head. Your autograph's done." He lightly tapped the spine of the thick tome, consisting of ridiculous stories of him and his love life with Atalanta, towards her head. It's imperative not to let his wife see this book, lest she destroy it in shock and anger. "Besides, there's more important matters I need to discuss with you."

That at least managed to make her raise her head to meet Shirõ's welcoming gaze, revealing a contorted mass of flesh for a face as her emotions were all over the place.

"Would you like to join my party for Lady Athena's quest?"

"…!"

Medea's mouth opened for quite a long time without making a sound, to the point Shirõ's getting slightly worried she might have cramps in her jaws. After a while, he reached out and tapped the bottom side of her jaw, closing it shut before her tongue could slide out and got bitten.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," he spoke, his eyes full of mirth. "Becoming a C-Ranker so soon as you joined… that's indicative of your talent and actual skill, you know. Don't underestimate yourself; I'm finding Circe's boasts about you to be quite true, it seems."

"T-Thank you very much! I'll try my best n-not to disappoint!"

\- BANG!

She bowed in respect and gratitude… right onto the table once again. However, the intensity of her elation prevented her from feeling too much pain, even when her forehead was comically smoking lightly from its contact point with the table.

"You can use this as precious experience. The ordeal will be tough and dangerous… but I believe you can handle yourself."

At the very least, parts of his words were actually making its way into the rational part of her brain. Technically, she was a rookie, albeit a very high-ranked one with sufficient combat experience – both when sparring with her master and aunt, along when shaking off her father's mercenaries. Going along with a group of S-Rankers, A-Rankers, and B-Rankers would be a gold mine of knowledge and training, one which no one else could get out of the blue.

Perhaps this gate-crashing experience was a positive one, after all…

* * *

Of course, Athena wouldn't just send her chosen heroes into what's essentially Poseidon's death trap without some prior preparations.

Under the heavy privacy arrays in her own territory, the deities – both major and minor – on her side were present to discuss how to ease the strike against Atlantis. Hera, the twins Artemis and Apollo, Persephone, and several others. As per Greek tradition, refreshments were served liberally whenever there's a meeting like this, regardless of its main purpose or the atmosphere.

Regarding the latter, the group was… relaxed, for a lack of a better word. They believed in their selection of champions, as well as the support they'd given them, both in terms of information and materials. They couldn't provide too much of the latter, as it could easily arouse suspicion from the other gods, even the neutral ones, but they're especially wary of Zeus.

The paranoid chief deity had been acting more and more reclusive lately, as observed by Hera, so no one present could really judge his moves. Tracking the God of [Lightning] when he decided to transform into various animals in his various trysts was hard enough – one of the reasons Hera hated his adulterous attitude – but with what's at stake right now, they couldn't afford a single slip-up.

Athena's three attendants: Aegis, Metis, and Labrys carefully cleared the table after the first round of appetizers and drinks. The trio wore sharp, angular robes cut to function, not beauty – despite their natural charms being enough to drive most mortals crazy – as per Athena's preference. Being subject to the Goddess of [Wisdom] and [War] ever since their births, they served both as her limbs and weapons: Aegis as the [Shield], Metis as the [Helmet], and Labrys as the [Axe].

Together, they represented parts of Athena's attributes which could be observed from the mortal realm: protection, wisdom, and strength.

Under the gazes of various powerhouses present, the three of them knelt down onto the ground, ready to receive their order.

"Deploy."

Receiving Athena's mandate, the three of them replied simultaneously, "Understood!"


	19. Real Wrestling

**Hey, everyone! Welcome to the latest chapter! I won't say much apart from an announcement: The new version of HV-E01, HV-E01: Reality's Phantasm, is now up and running in Erithemaeus's (formerly Broken Paladin) profile. It's the new re-write of the spin-off for this series I've been talking about. Check it out!**

**And as to why this AN is short... Well, the responses I receive from my last question in the previous chapter are great, but they quickly evolve into a rant from me. You guys can enjoy (or do the opposite) parts of the rant below in the Mailbag.**

**Rant-ful mailbag time!  
****seem14: [the reply's excerpt] Ah, so it's just as I predicted, then. Before I began writing on this site, I noticed a number of my favorite stories being taken down - either those containing mature contents, poems, songs, etc. - despite their respective authors giving the readers proper disclaimer and warning. I was confused when it happened, because it looked like the site moderators simply didn't care about the writers' efforts to stay legible. They should've done their work properly, then, and only ban those who really break the rules, instead of giving one-size-fits-all punishment.  
Mythic Imagination: ****Now, I believe you used the word 'stories' to describe Persephone's characterization in most medias, correct? I'm leaning more towards her historical and mythological personification rather than the popular ones. I know this is flip-flopping between characters, because Athena and some other characters are obviously inspired from other fandoms, but I want to keep this story well-balanced. This is also the underlying reason behind my interpretation of her relationship with Athena. Regarding the rest of your (implied) questions, I don't think I'll say much more! As always, you just have to wait for the development to come with future chapters!  
Lost Stardust1: ****[the reply's excerpt] ****Well, it's not a professionally-ran site, despite its obvious positive qualities, so the loud minority can get a story banned simply because it doesn't sit well with them, despite the authors' best work in warning and giving disclaimer. I agree some of those banned stories were correctly judged, but 90% (or even more) of the deleted stories (and those who moved sites as a result) are still worthy literature pieces. That's my opinion.  
Silver566: ****I'll throw the ball back to you, instead of answering in detail. Given what I've written about the Iolchos royal family so far, and accounting for the change in characters in my story, what do you think will happen? Will it deviate far from historical canon? Will Peleus get involved? Because at this time I won't confirm anything yet, so I'll let you stew on that for a while. Let my evil laugh resound in your head.  
Mo Eazy: ******[the reply's excerpt] **Regarding the sex scene, I agree with most of your latter opinion, and thank you once again for the advice. Regarding the earliest M-rated scene in this story involving Medusa, I think I miss writing a warning at the start of the chapter. That's the only thing I'm sorry about, really; I still will insist that chapter part paints the picture of this story the best. About how different the values in Ancient Greece was compared to modern day, and how the characters will act in response to that. You'll notice I've started placing warnings in the previous few chapters as a result.**

******Warning: M-rated scene below. Read (and comment) on your own discretion.******

* * *

"Fuuu~ Fuuu~ Fuuu~ Fuuu~ "

I have to be honest, despite how wrong it often sounds, watching two females engaging in perverted acts is sexually arousing for me, as a man, personally.

Medusa is struggling to breathe as Atalanta pours in droplets of her blood – divine and bestial in nature – into her lips via _a lot _of tongue and saliva. It's amusing because of the similarity in their stature, now that Medusa's body suddenly expanded over the past few weeks… and into something slightly curvier than the Arcadian princess's figure.

Not that she's jealous, as she admits to me.

A pause for breath is immediately covered by a soft nibbling of the lips, as Atalanta's lithe frame pins Medusa's budding form down. The Gorgon should've had higher physical strength, but it appears the unfamiliar sensation of a woman's lips, instead of my own, providing the Od confuses her motor controls greatly. As her shapely legs squirm under Atalanta's hips, she slowly but surely relaxes her guard and gives herself away into the pleasure.

Which is the most dangerous phase, and the reason I'm here to supervise.

If not careful, this state of Medusa's will cause her to wantonly suck all available blood around her, involuntarily activating a stupidly broken version of Blood Fort Andromeda, and kill us all.

Well, not _all_. Those around us – outside this private chamber – are sufficiently strong enough to survive _that_ particular incident, if it happens at all, but our condition right now isn't one we can afford to not be 100% all the time.

"A-Ah... A-Atalanta~ " Medusa moans once again between breaths, hugging the older woman tighter, clinging on for dear life out of fear and excitement. "More…"

And the princess obliges, like she always does when pampering Medusa.

After our marriage, Medusa did admit to feeling slightly awkward, especially with her now-older body. Granted, her actual age is far beyond the two of us, being a goddess and having slowed growth rate – though nothing compared to her sisters' immortality – but the sudden burst in hormones incited strange thoughts in her head.

Not that Atalanta minded. She bluntly told the younger girl she loved Medusa's self, not just her form, and accepted her once again into our family.

Well, I have prepared a more eloquent speech back then – one which would've included some caressing as well – but she beat me into it. Just like her usual self.

Which… ends us in this situation.

Atalanta abhors doing anything she perceives as 'unworthy' to children, which was why she left Medusa's 'feeding' to me previously. Now… not so much.

Granted, I don't foresee this development, thinking she'll lose interest in the Gorgon as soon as she grows up, just the way she does to most other people, male or female – but that's not the case.

Perhaps it's time to pat myself in the back for a job well done? For Medusa who has lost everything – her place in humanity's prayers, her sisters, her home – I have arranged for her a new one. One with a real mother watching from Olympus above, and two relatives who cares for her very much.

Much as I dislike rationalizing my emotions, because I do yearn to form real ones, instead of excellent imitations, it does calm me down when I fully understand what I'm doing to myself, before I start changing things towards history.

"N, nnn, nkuu…"

Ah, Atalanta's tail starts to twitch. It means she's signaling for me to stop.

Expertly, I untangle Medusa's arms from around Atalanta's slim waist, snapping her out of her stupor. It's something I've had practice with many times, as sleeping with many women and waking up without disturbing them will do to oneself.

When they finally separate, it reveals two equally blushing, unfocused, drooling expression on the two beautiful women's face. It's something even I myself haven't seen Atalanta make, simply because she hasn't received any stimulus which will result in this. The thin bridge of saliva between the two's lips, as well as the dampness marking each other's crotch, is proof of the arousal both of them felt, perhaps for the first time in their lives.

"So… Medusa tastes this good, huh…" Atalanta absent-mindedly mutters, as if critiquing a dish.

"A-Atalanta… I-I'm sorry if I went o-overboard…" Medusa, panting, says, regarding her earlier slight loss of control. "Your b-blood… is different from Shirō's…"

"Who tastes better, then?"

At the catgirl's incessant questioning, I tap her shoulders lightly, halfway embracing her. "I don't think that question's relevant, no?"

"It is to me!" She huffs, shaking me off, her predatory eyes already locked onto Medusa's cowering expression, not letting go of their prey. "So, who…?"

Medusa's eyes flit between Atalanta's face and my own several times in quick succession, before deciding the truth is the best, much to my dread. "It's Shirō."

\- Srrt… Srrt… Srrt…

"Uuu… G-Gusu…" Atalanta sits in the corner, hugging her knees to her chest, drawing invisible images on the ground gloomily. "I-I lost…"

Suddenly feeling awkward, Medusa quickly excuses herself from the room. "I… I'll go and practice outside!"

Good point, I must admit. Her sudden growth has completely messed up all her previous training, as her body control now drops to near-amateur levels. Her talent is incredible, though, and I'm sure she'll regain it quickly. She _has_ to, because of the dangers in the trip we're going on.

Besides, she has plenty of new sparring partners available now, instead of constantly going with either me or Atalanta. Both of us are skilled enough to teach her everything she needs, but there's no substituting for actual experience.

I kneel beside Atalanta's rocking body, embracing her tightly. "Feeling better now?"

"Of being embraced by my rival?! No, thank you…" she replies gruffly, throwing her face away from mine with a "Hmph!"

Knowing her personality, I don't give up, and start to softly peck her nape, neck, jaws, and cheeks, before she eventually relents and returns my approach with a soft, but wet kiss. My weight topples her stance and I gently lower her back to the floor, prying her lips lightly open with my tongue.

"Mmhhh… A-Ah~ " She moans much sweeter than her previous engagement with Medusa, making me feel proud I manage to outdo the beautiful Gorgon. She may give Atalanta a new sensation, but there's no substituting for my experience! "S-Shirō…"

Her hands roam down my upper robe onto my lower one, as my own caresses the sides of her breasts, feeling the nubs on them harden against my chest.

Separating for a moment, I look heatedly into her eyes, whispering seductively, "The night's still long, and everyone's outside…"

Without further hesitation, she expertly clinches my waist with her toned legs and reverses our position, before summarily tossing me onto the bed.

"Why do you always talk in such a roundabout manner, even to your wife?" She grumbles while blushing. "There is no need for that question, is there…?"

It's fortunate I'm aware enough to activate the privacy barriers around this room, right before Atalanta plunges herself on top of my towering member.

* * *

"Herakles, go easy on her," Asclepius chided, watching on from the sidelines on top of the wide ship deck.

The large man simply grunted, not exactly consenting or refuting the comment, choosing to focus his entire killing intent and focus on his opponent. He spread his powerful, trunk-like legs slightly wider than his shoulders, planting his stance deep on the ship's treated-wood surface.

From Medea's perspective, it's akin to facing a literal mountain made of rocks, about to cast an avalanche on her, making her gulp nervously and clench her staff even tighter and more nervously.

They're currently practicing under the night sky on the large boat Athena has prepared for their expedition, the _Argo_. It's created from an amalgamation of technologies and Magecraft not even Chiron was familiar with; the masterpiece of this time. A ship strong enough to withstand Herakles's stomping on its deck surface, and one stable enough to prevent seasickness, but was swifter than any known steeds from Poseidon's possession. Its sails combined [Wind] Magecraft with the automated propeller underneath, clad in [Water] Magecraft, boosting its maneuverability and speed even more.

Plus, its party piece made even Shirō gawk in disbelief: the ability to transform into a submarine, vital to attack Atlantis's core which was located underwater.

Those on board were mostly the guests in Atalanta's wedding, bar Chiron, whose duties lied elsewhere in the Guild. If the centaur followed them, his absence would've been instantly noticeable by Poseidon, blowing their operation before it even began. Even the task of hiding the movements of two S-Rankers and several A-Rankers was arduous enough, requiring the cooperation of Athena and other sympathetic gods.

Selene was shining in all her glory in the skies above them, illuminating the deck – which was purposefully bereft of torches.

One, the cover of Nyx – darkness – was vital, as it influenced even the gods. Those onboard weren't sure of the Protogenoi's alliance, only wishing she's neutral, so they'd take the chances. Two, everyone in the ship had little trouble seeing and moving excellently in the dark, so the torches' purpose was moot. The helmsman and his crew knew the path to Atlantis like the back of their hand, even Poseidon's tricks to disallow vessels to pass through his oceans, so they only relied on muscle memory to steer them there.

There's no need to take a detour. They had one choice only: speed. Approach fast enough Poseidon and his underlings couldn't react properly, instead of taking complicated routes which would take precious time away from the group and giving them to Poseidon instead.

The threat of Pandora's tomes was all too real. Despite having one of their members defeated, there's little doubt Pandora's monitoring the entire situation in her own special way. Going slower might even give her the chance to send one of her more powerful tomes to them.

…or she already had one stationed in Atlantis. That idea was suggested by Shirō, and the most likely possibility. All the more to hurry and strike; if Pandora managed to spread her influence further in Atlantis with more time, there's no telling what atrocities she'd prepared for them.

Therefore, Medea was drilled harshly again and again by the seasoned adventurers present. Her talent was undeniable, but her experience amounted to… zero. She fought some mercenaries before, yes, but never against fantastic creatures and divine challenges. Her experience in grooming Colchis's dragon back home distorted her view of wild beasts somewhat, which all the adventurers present immediately corrected.

She opened her lips to chant a word, having already prepared the magical calculation in her head to avoid the need to draw or chant long rituals. _That_ habit was quickly beaten out of her in Shirō's first lesson, courtesy of a bop to the head.

However, it still wasn't fast enough.

Herakles's open palm had already reached her side before she could utter her sound, throwing her sideways into the invisible barrier they'd put up as the practice field's boundary.

"Gahk…!"

She spat out copious amount of saliva, though thankfully no blood. She'd jumped lightly to the side to follow the strike to reduce her injury, laced further by a sudden change in offensive Magecraft to a defensive one, preventing the palm strike to transform her into a bloody mess on the floor.

"Faster," Herakles growled out seriously, all traces of his fun-loving, erratic self gone.

\- BANG!

Medea, frustrated, stabbed the tip of her staff to the ground, propping herself up. The impact even forced her tear ducts to expel water, despite her not crying, and snot dribbled down her nose. She silently rubbed the impact spot with her elbow over her travel robes – much thicker and more concealing than her usual light, airy ones, after Atalanta commented how easy it was to guess her movements from under the translucent fabric.

Plus, she also added it looked lewd, so Medea hurriedly changed into a purple-and-black hooded one after that, madly blushing.

\- BOOM!

Herakles, meanwhile, was suddenly blasted backwards.

"Guh…" Shocked, he checked his left arm, which was now covered in burnt flesh and soot. Faint traces of a ritual circle were fading from them, clearly implanted there by Medea right at the moment of impact.

Before he could compliment her of the tactic, the young magus had already flown upwards and dived, her speed akin to a lithe sparrow. Herakles grunted, approving of her choice.

Pure close combat wouldn't work. She had too little training in it, despite her obvious flexibility and Reinforced-speed – and Herakles was a master of it. Long range combat might work better, but the S-Ranker had too much experience in combating magi who constantly tried to create distance between them, enabling him to rush them down without mercy.

So… what should she do?

'_A combination of both, obviously…!'_ Medea shouted internally, both to clear her mind and steady her heart.

It's a new tactic she's trying right now. Her dive was met by Herakles's short jump, aiming to meet her halfway, but her robes suddenly flared outwards and sharply shifted her flight to one side. He tried to catch her with a side elbow, but her staff was longer and touched his shoulder first.

"Stay down!"

"Mgghhh…!"

Gravity spiked around his skin, forcing him down and making his bones creak. Clearly, it's not enough to injure him in any way, but a good method to temporarily restrain him.

Medea swiftly rotated, before swinging her staff's large head with all her might. Glowing with purple thunder, her strike was akin to Zeus's divine punishment, rocketing down towards Herakles's head.

The man crossed his arms to shield his head.

\- BAM!

"Kyah!"

Before the dust from the blow dissipated, the demigod had already broken free of Medea's earlier [Gravity] spell and kicked her square in the chest, clearly uninjured from her last might blow.

Knowing she's completely open, he at least managed to restrain his strength, though it was still enough to break all her ribs like twigs and sending her flying backwards, close to where Asclepius was supervising.

Before her rag-dolling body could touch the floor, the A-Ranker waved one of his hand and focused with another one around his snake staff, healing her completely.

"A-Argh…" She coughed out dry vomits, as the pain wasn't affected by Asclepius's healing spell. "G-Guh…"

\- Clap. Clap. Clap.

"Alright, that's enough."

Herakles exhaled the breath he's been holding. They'd been going like this for the past several dozen minutes – Medea attacking, dodging, defending, and plotting against him, ending in her being severely injured, Asclepius instantly healing her… and over and over again.

The long-haired man stiffly patted her shoulder. "Go and rest. And… clean yourself up."

"T-Thank you f-for your teachings…" she replied, lying down on the ground and panting heavily.

\- Thud. Thud. Thud.

As Herakles's thundering footsteps approached, she tried to raise her upper body to express her gratitude to him properly, but his massive hand – the size of her entire thorax – gently patted her head down, forcing her to lay back down.

"No need to thank us just yet. When you're faced with life-or-death situation later on and survived, you may do so," he said warmly, which was odd coming from such a rough and wild-looking hulk. "Besides, it's a good warm-up for me."

His words were true. Despite all of Medea's efforts, including the ones which actually connected dead-on, there wasn't even a scratch on Herakles. She assumed it must be his Authority granting him incredible defenses, coming from his demigod lineage. It's clearly reported on various stories of him she'd read, though its source wasn't known… like, _at all_. Common courtesy prevented her from asking outright – she didn't have the brazenness of her aunt or Lady Atalanta, after all.

She should just keep quiet and focus on improving herself. Her knowledge and basic skill were enough – Hecate made sure of that before letting her go on this adventure – but practical experience was a must. There's no need in using her processing capability over small things right now.

She realized she's clearly the weak link in this group. In fact, her appointment was a complete accident! Who knew sneaking into Sir Shirō's wedding for free food would end up in her being here?! The man even scouted her himself! That's one of the happiest days in her life, up there with a select few parties with her relatives.

Well, that's all true if Herakles didn't bring the subject up himself.

"Confused as to why your attacks didn't have any effect? I'm sure you've already formed several theories, right?" He asked. "Do share your opinion."

Still panting, she replied weakly, "P-Perhaps… hah… an Authority f-from your father…?"

"Almost, but not quite." He looked up to the shining moon in the sky, reminiscing of something. "It's an active technique Shirō taught me through our practice matches."

Unknown to them, this was Shirō's attempt to grant Herakles his infamous [God Hand] without placing him through the trials and tribulations he experienced as toys of the gods. The method was quite crude, but effective – just continue lecturing the big man while wailing on him with Noble Phantasms, slowly rising their Rank as Herakles grasped more understanding.

The redheaded S-Ranker absolutely _hated_ seeing other people being the whims of the gods, especially those who suffered underneath them. Perseus was one of the lucky few who continued to have success, despite his historical counterpart's obvious tyranny and unnecessary aggression, which was why Shirō scolded him so harshly back then.

His body's original owner was also one such example, which only symbolized the Olympians' true character and taste in heroes.

Herakles ended up creating a thin, but ultra-dense layer of Od across the pores of his skin and orifices, which given his latent [Divinity], was incredibly tough and strong by itself. It's not to the point of reaching [God Hand]'s resurrective immortality, but its base defenses were similar, if only slightly weaker. Besides, he lacked the talent to project magic energy away from his body without physical contact, so it's a good option to learn.

"Don't be disheartened. You did good today," he tried to awkwardly console the steaming-hot girl lying exhausted on the floor, nudging her side with one finger. Of course, it's as thick as her entire forearm, so it's a more appropriate gesture when compared to the ones he made towards his male friends. "Are you back with Jason… _Shirō_ tomorrow?"

She wordlessly nodded, before groaning and raising her body to wash herself prior to bedtime.

He had to admit, these past few days, her back seemed to get bigger and bigger each day, getting more and more reliable.

Good job.

"Are you going to watch all night? Or are you coming down?"

He spoke without looking behind him, where Medusa had silently and lightly landed.

"I was going to call out to you," she replied, lightly sulking her sneak attack failed before it even started. "Shall we? It's my turn now, isn't it?"

He rotated his shoulder with a satisfying crack, grinning back maniacally.

"Oh, for sure."

This young girl… no, _woman_ in front of him would be fine even if he hit her with his full power, after all.

With Harpe in hand – now more suited to her new height than before – two large metal stakes floated behind her, supported by thin metal chains.

'_Two-headed snake… No, should I make that four? Or five?'_

Asclepius's sigh, having been silent this whole time, served as the starting signal.

* * *

Lightly pounding on her shoulders, Medea dragged her exhausted body into the public bathing area.

Truly, the _Argo_ was a marvel of engineering. Who knew placing a large bath inside a cramped space with the use of Magecraft was actually a genius move, instead of a useless luxury? Those who said so knew nothing, she had determined! If one was constantly pounded by the cold sea spray, errant rain and hurricane, as well as Herakles's fists… she'd like to meet any person who'd say this hot bath was a bad idea!

"Uuu… H-He's too cruel…" she complained, despite knowing how hypocritical that sounded when she was the one who proposed the training regimen. Still, how could a sheltered teenage princess predict how hard an S-Ranker could punch?! "I'm sore… Haa…"

Sighing repeatedly, she disrobed, letting the heavier-than-usual clothes pile onto the floor with an unfamiliar 'thud'. She's used to the best robes, the best jewelries, the best service, to the point this 'adventurer life' still held so much wondrous experience for her. She always preferred light, airy clothing, accepting the gazes such translucent robes would invite with great annoyance just so she could stay cool and composed.

She looked down, at her milky pale skin, pert breasts, and flat stomach, unconsciously comparing them to the woman she both admired and envied the most: Atalanta Artemisia-Arcadia.

The A-Ranker had not just beauty, so natural she's not even trying to be. In fact, the usual rough mane and errant hair, as well as pragmatic sense of fashion, only served to highlight how attractive the cat-eared woman was. Even though many had complimented Medea's appearance, not the least her closest relatives, her young mind still thought how green the grass on the other side was.

And also… Atalanta's life. How it's filled with thrills and adventures, romance and nightmares, urban life and wilderness… They're certainly a far cry from Colchis's secluded and solitary wealth, akin to a gilded cage. Unlike her life, mostly spent in libraries reading dusty tomes and fantasizing of princes like Sir Shirō, Lady Atalanta actually went out there and _did it_.

She had always managed to keep her expectations in check. However, right now, having met the people she'd read about for so long in person, these ugly emotions kept resurfacing every now and then, forcing her to consciously keep it in check.

Medea knew it's wrong to think like that. That's the mindset of a child, of an immature person! And she wanted to be treated like neither – not by her aunt and teacher, not by her fellow adventurers – but as a fully-grown woman, lovely and elegant.

Wasn't that the dream of all girls in the world? Especially… by the men of their dreams…

Sighing for the umpteenth time, she stepped through the space barrier enveloping the bath… where she instantly froze.

* * *

The temperature is just right. The slight tingle of scalding from the milky white water, the light suffocation from the copious amount of steam, the gentle rippling of various flowing liquids and whooshing of gases…

\- Thud.

Only for an odd sound to ruin the moment.

However, I don't let the sudden "Eep!" ruin my relaxed attitude, where the water around me stays calm and serene.

After a few more moments of silence, I greet, "You can enter now, Medea. It's a public bath, after all."

I'm quite sure my words will just serve the opposite effect, and make the other party even more nervous.

…which was odd. The advent of privacy Magecraft, created by the priests and priestesses of Aprhodite, Apollo, and Artemis to allow mixed bathing without any form of embarrassment makes getting naked between two different sexes to be a trivial thing. It's actually invented out of pragmatic economic and urban decision rather than lust, to my surprise, because of the rising costs of land throughout Greece. There's less space needed for mixed bathing compared to a segregated one, which logically reduced the need for lavish decoration and partition between the two sides.

Or is Medea too used to bathing alone or in very small groups? It can be… If her best experience in terms of skinship is only shared between Circe and Hecate, then it makes sense. However, given she's now an adventurer, I expect her to be wiser in regards of these kinds of things…

…which is of course wrong.

'_Atalanta's going to… Oh, wait, I'm not even sure __**what**__she's going to do, or __**how**__ she's going to react…'_

\- Shuffle. Shuffle. Shuffle.

Timid steps approach where I'm currently halfway submerged in the hot water, where the steam finally parts lightly to reveal Medea's ravishing young form. The earlier privacy Magecraft I mention, [Censor], meant billowing steam and refracted light is covering her now-naked body, as her towel hangs by her side. With beet-red face, she scuttles onto a nearby wash basin, before silently drenching her body in warm water.

The manner this scene plays out in front of me is slightly different than the usual Japanese bathhouse, being more similar to a Turkish one. Rather than wood-accented, there's more _mármaron_ and _keramikos_ here than most temples in Mycenae or Athens. Such was the luxury Athena granted us on _Argo_, and the importance of staying in good mental and physical shape for the mission ahead.

However, in reality, the way most people wash themselves are an eccentric mix. Some prefer the Japanese method, which I and my household – Atalanta and Medusa – practices. I'm not too sure about my fellow adventurers; some may prefer the Roman-style, which is close to the modern Turkish way, while some have their own quirks.

I close my eyes, enjoying the sound around me once again, now complimented by Medea's nervous and quiet trembling. My Pure Eyes can certainly pierce through [Censor] very easily, but I prefer to have my women reveal themselves in front of me by themselves, instead of being a forceful pervert. Accidents don't count, of course – as par for the course with my original self, 'Shirō Emiya'.

\- Shuffle. Shuffle. Drip. Splash…

Done with the preliminary washing, she slides down one edge into the large bath – itself also enlarged and deepened through liberal use of space Magecraft. Medea's surprisingly choose a spot not far from me, contrary to my expectation.

"Is it just right? I'll adjust the temperature if you want to," I begin, trying to break the silence.

I deliberately use a simplified accent to create a more casual atmosphere, having used a more formal one when speaking to others due to my rank… and frankly, Atalanta's influence. She lightly shakes her head at that, letting her long hair fray about on the water's surface, not bothering to tie them up.

"Come closer, then."

"A-Ah…!" She squeaks, jumping lightly in the water, indecision dawning on her face. After a while – and some fidgeting – she moves closer, before settling just before her shoulder can rub with mine.

Then, in a bold move… she removes [Censor].

She clearly sees my eyes going wide in equal amount of surprise… and lust. I mean… she is _beautiful_, both objectively and subjectively speaking. Even my original self, 'Shirō Emiya', was quite smitten with the older Medea when he first saw her face, though by that time their personalities were too far apart for either of them to consider even being close friends, let alone being in a relationship.

Right now, Medea sports no trace of the cold, wicked, cunning woman; only an innocent, yearning, blushing face greets my inquisitive stare. The filling curves – still growing – teased every so often with her airy and translucent clothing is laid bare, with all her nubs clearly as stiff as they can be. Though not as curvaceous as her adult self, I can see why her father wishes to keep her isolated.

This beauty is enough to get to war for, just like those stupid reasons in war legends.

Of course, it's not like I consider her to be more attractive than Atalanta. At best, Medea can equal her just in terms of skin-deep appearance, with Medusa perhaps also in the running. Her admiration towards me is clear... perhaps budding into love, but… unfortunately for her, I still haven't built the same vigor in my emotions.

Still, my hands instinctively roam towards her, brushing her arms, before rubbing them strongly and pulling her closer.

"…!"

She exhales sharply, before closing her eyes in expectation.

"Open your eyes, Medea. I want you to look at me when I say this," I strictly command, stopping my movement just a few inches away from entangling our bodies together.

"A-Ah… B-But…"

"No buts. This is an important thing for you, so curse me if I ever do this irresponsibly."

Timidly – to the point of looking scared – she cracks open her eyes, before promptly stuttering at our close proximity. "S-Sir S-Shirō… I… I-I-I-I-I…!"

"Then tell me… why do you want to do this? I'm asking the rational part of your brain, so think clearly before you answer. I'll give you time." I tap the middle of her forehead. "If this is just momentary youthful lust… then I should go."

"IT'S NOT!" She screams right at my face, before quickly realizing what she's just done and hurriedly backs away. I catch up to her quickly, as her ankle seems to catch something at the bottom of the bath and makes her slip lightly. "I… Sir Shirō – no, _Lord Jason_! I… I-I've admired you for a l-long time! I LOVE YOU!"

\- …

A period of silence follows, in which I smile proudly at her bravery, while also enjoying how the slow realization of Medea's words to dawn on her changes her expression. From a determined one, to a worried one, to an absolutely embarrassed one…

'_She sure is cute, huh…?'_

\- SPLASH!

She drowns her own head immediately, so eager is she to avoid my entertained gaze. Chuckling loudly, I move forward and brings her back up, where she immediately and unintentionally spurts copious amount of water she's swallowed at my face.

"Bbbuuuuuu…!"

Her current state doesn't allow her brain to recognize what she just did, and she promptly coughs out a few more mouthfuls of the same water. I gingerly tap her back to strengthen her vomit reflex to clear out her airways quicker, while laughing internally.

'_Yeah, she's cute.'_

Maybe it's just a childish crush, but I have to admire her guts to confess to a married man. Specifically, one whose wife is sleeping close by, exhausted by several rounds of non-stop lovemaking. Oh, I'm sure Medea knows my situation – and that makes her courage… or perhaps 'recklessness', to be more precise, shine even brighter in my eyes.

Given current Greece's rather… lax attitude towards committed relationship, it's perhaps easier than doing the same thing in modern times, no matter how popular such fantasies are in fiction and reality. Even Atalanta's engaging in these sorts of talks lately through her small quips and actions, especially when several women I've slept with in the past showed up in our wedding.

Circe, in particular, was quite loose-mouthed once alcohol entered her system, though thankfully she had the conscience to utter her experiences with me in private with Atalanta, instead of shouting it out loud like she did in regards to Medea's achievements. My wife, to her credit, maturely accepted the fact and didn't even get angry, and simply answered that's what she expected of an 'alpha male' – which kind of hurt, really.

Does she really think so little of my mental strength?

…upon closer introspection, Atalanta may be right.

"There, there…" I usher Medea to one side, who's clearing her throat out of the last droplets of water. She still looks terribly ashamed of what she just said, hanging her head low and not daring to meet my gaze.

I lift her chin with one finger, forcing our gaze to meet.

"Thank you for your feelings. I've certainly received it."

"T-Then…" Hope starts to enter her eyes, before the 'rational side' I demanded of her brain a few moments ago takes over. "But… w-what about Lady Atalanta…? U-Um… d-does she hate me now?"

Sensing a presence nearby, I casually reply, "Why don't you ask her now?"

"HUH?!"

\- Gacha.

The door to the bath is roughly opened, giving out quite a loud sound, which Medea slowly – and dreadfully – turns towards.

Her shoulders tremble greatly once again, as Atalanta's slovenly figure comes into view.

Her cat ears and tail are flat and lifeless, while her eyes lay unfocused on our naked, embracing figure.

Faster than Medea can react, she pounces, tackling the two of us into the water.

"Mugu- Mugu- Mugu- Mugu- Mugu- Mugu- Mugu- Mugu- Mugu…!" Medea struggles against the sudden weight, perfectly placed to blanket her entire torso and restrict her breathing. I, for one, is used to this, and expertly disentangle the two women and bring us all above the surface.

"Kah…! G-Gah…!" Medea chokes on some water for the second time tonight, before swiftly taking her stance by wrapping herself around one of my arm… which incidentally presses both her breasts and her smooth, soft crotch into me.

Atalanta, meanwhile, looks just as close to death as she did when she entered, lethargically mimicking Medea's movements… before promptly nuzzling her face into my neck and _falling asleep_.

My wife, too, is naked somehow – perhaps not even bothering to dress up on her way here, as I can feel the dried semen caking her lower lips on my knuckles.

The young girl on my other side whispers in a mix of fear and astonishment, stuttering, "I-Is she… No, what is she even doing?! O-Or how is her body? Something's wrong…!"

I lightly squeeze her smooth, plump thigh, making her jump lightly. "She's sleepwalking. It's typical; don't worry about it."

"Sleepwalking doesn't make you a natural killer…!" Medea can't help herself but question my explanation, her eyes now filled with a demand for another, more rational, reason. "S-She was going to k-kill me…!"

"No, no, you got it wrong, Medea," I correct, my tone light and casual. "Have you seen how a mountain lion moves about in its natural habitat? It often pounces just like Atalanta's movements; it's completely instinctive and natural for her. If she hurts you, then I apologize in her stead."

Faced with my bowed head, the Colchian princess panics and squeezes my arm into her body even further, heightening the pleasurable softness akin to warm goose feathers for me. "P-Please don't…! I… My heart panicked b-because of what I said earlier! Don't mind it…"

"It's fortunate for you, you know."

She tilts her head to one side, confused. "What do you mean?"

"The fact she doesn't snap out of her sleepwalking state means she accepts you… or to be more precise, our current situation."

Her eyes twitch. "That doesn't even make any sense…"

Chuckling, I spend the rest of the night explaining Atalanta's habits to the increasingly bewildered Medea, while enjoying their naked bodies wrapped around my own.

* * *

'_It hurts more than I expected…'_

Circe winced as that thought inadvertently surfaced in her head, having flown straight to Atlantis's surface location from Arcadia non-stop. It's an atypical decision from her – so decisive and pragmatic – but as the hours passed above the Aegean Sea, her thoughts began to wander.

Specifically, her past with the man who'd just become a groom of another woman.

However, as the images flashed through her head, despite her best efforts of burying them over the years – to the point of considering cutting her hair off as a sacrifice to Mnemosyne to help these memories – her lips contorted into a bitter smile. The sweet, the spicy, the bitter, the surprise sourness, and the joyful richness of their time together – however brief – would always hold a special place in her heart.

Perhaps a part of her had acknowledged this, which was why she had never gone through seriously with her consideration of Mnemosyne's Domain – that of memory 'correction' – and instead built a hidden altar of Lord Jason in her heart.

She was young. He was younger, back then – her age was a sensitive matter! However, she's proud of her looks, which was why she's intrigued this promising rookie wasn't overly enthralled by her presence like so many of his peers. Oh, he's complimentary of her beauty, for sure, but only when she asked. Most other times, he even appeared to have forgotten she existed – and this was sincere, not the looking-away-but-secretly-peeking styles of many haughty noblemen.

Circe was in no way could be described as 'busty', but she loved her proportions – just filled out enough to arouse the base desires of young boys, and slim enough to emanate an aura of innocence and youth. Besides, her long, pointy ears were a killer with them – as did her lustrous pink hair, a very rare color even among magi. Added on to those were her bedroom skills, which _no one_ had complained at all throughout the years, bar complaining it's far too short and sweet… before she turned the particularly annoyingly clingy ones into piglets.

The first time she laid her eyes on Lord Jason, she simply knew she had to have him. Temporarily, just a taste – in case he's not chasing a long-term relationship. His confident, but not arrogant aura; his directness and honesty when speaking to people, unbiased to their appearances – in fact, he's the only person she could remember to be able to hold a straight conversation with longer than 5 minutes. His knowledge and maturity was unparalleled, even back then in his younger years, seducing her with far more than his lovely physical appearance.

That was also the first time she'd admit to herself she's interested in a person for anything _other_ than their appearance.

In effect, he's her first love, only so far as the one she ever considered a serious relationship with.

But now, he's taken.

…and a part of her was alright with that. Despite their short, intimate, physical relationship, they were still great friends over the years. Perhaps a part of him was turned off by her promiscuity, though he had never showed it to her or anyone – her information/gossip network was quite good – and treated her the same way, just the way she dreamt of the perfect man.

He was cutely honest like that.

So, at the very least, for everything sweet he's given to her and her life, she'd repay him in this way.

The path to Atlantis, despite the _Argo_'s speed, was naturally treacherous and artificially difficult at the same time. She went ahead to scout, and thankfully, nothing untoward or unpredictable had appeared.

She flapped her wings strongly, using more Od and muscle power than she would've liked. The mosaic of white, grey, and dark clouds hovering randomly above the ocean blurred at her current speed into a blanket of misty water vapor, though she had a warming spell activated all the time.

Perhaps… she really was more emotionally affected than she thought? She couldn't distinctly remember a time in her life when she put forth more effort than this – not even when under Hecate's tutelage.

She didn't even tell anyone in particular about this decision, merely excusing herself from the party via a short message she told Medea. It's a foreign emotion to her – usually, she acted with confidence in all her decisions, knowing full well her rights, responsibilities, and her own abilities to get the job done.

Right now? This was… a potentially suicidal-

\- BOOM!

"AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

All of a sudden, an intense pain struck her – burning, numbing, scorching, blinding, fainting, tearing, burning, numbing, scorching, blinding, fainting, tearing, burning, numbing, scorching, blinding, fainting, tearing, burning, numbing, scorching, blinding, fainting, tearing, burning, numbing, scorching, blinding, fainting, tearing, burning, numbing, scorching, blinding, fainting, tearing, burning, numbing, scorching, blinding, fainting, tearing…

"AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! UUUUURRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHH…"

Her groan was short-lived, as a strong, gauntleted hand grabbed her throat and suffocated her airways.

\- Squeeze…

"Argh… A-Kagh… G-Guh…" Her legs kicked about, as her internal bleeding choked out bubbles of blood up her lungs, nose and mouth, clouding her consciousness in darkness. "O-Oooeerrrgghhh…"

The hand simply clutched tighter, causing the fluids to be blocked and flowed back into her stomach, bloating it painfully.

\- Thud.

The other hand formed a fist… and sent a straight punch to her thin gut.

"Bluurrgghhh…"

She couldn't even scream out in pain, as her vocal chords was starved of air.

Her eyes rolled back, unable to bear the pain, before falling into the dark realm she's fighting to escape earlier.

The last images she could remember were the pitch-black clouds rumbling around her, charged plentifully with lightning and thunder and rain and hail.

* * *

**Glossary Update!**

* * *

**C**

**Censor**

An intricate, complicated barrier Magecraft made of multi-faceted Elements. The two main ones, [Fate] and [Light], needed to be measured in completely opposite direction: one to manipulate probabilities of other objects obscuring an opponent's view, the other to ensure the gaps remaining were filled to completely create an opaque layer at just the right places. Its most common application was [Anti-Unit], though skilled practitioner could manipulate the thin Bounded Field to the extent of being classified as Anti[-Army].

A popular spell among noblewomen and young princesses, its difficulty meant not every family with some more money than others could afford the lessons required to teach their relatives or workers. Therefore, female magi who had mastered this spell was in high demand, no matter where they came from or they're working now – adventurers, priestesses, healers, shamans, and so on.


	20. Bad, Worse, Worst Omens

**Hello, everyone! Thank you for the great reception over the past few M-rated chapters; you've given me a solid background of understanding and future options for my future chapters and projects to stand up on. However, a fair bit of warning: this chapter won't be as action-packed as the ones before, mainly because it predates several more in the near future. Look forward to it, and do let me know the quality of this exposition chapter.  
**

**Another news I want to bring to you is the multiple releases of Erithemaeus's rewrite for this series's spin-off, HV-E01: Reality's Phantasm. Very, very underrated story, and one of the best writers I've beta-ed (to the point I barely do any work). There's several nuggets regarding the epilogue of HV-S01: RKR as well, so check it out and give it _a lot_ more love! They deserve it from the quality of their writing alone! Review it, and give them a shout-out as best as you can.**

**A more 'normal' mailbag, this time:  
****Zskk: Thanks for the suggestion. I'm just asking you guys because it's mostly from a jerk among you who can cause a story to be banned, despite the author clearly not meaning to write outright fetish-filled smut.  
Mythic Imagination: ****Thanks for your review! However, I am confused as to what your issues really is about the chapter/entire story. I think you need to explain a bit more in detail. I'm glad you noticed the little details I put in there. It's a part of my writing I'm always trying to improve, because it affects the subconsciousness of the readers and makes it more enjoyable, I think. Most fanfic writers I admire and take inspiration from have this trait in their stories.  
Trasgo Madaraz Artifex: ****Hahaha! Come to think of it, which Naruto character experienced that kind of flashback and still survive until Boruto? Apart from the main characters, of course.  
YuukiAsuna-chan: I worked hard on it!**

**Do enjoy, and don't forget to review and discuss freely. Welcome to the new followers, as well.**

* * *

"Dear nephew, would you like seconds?" Alcimedes sweetly placed an additional serving of bean soup in front of Acastus, who looked filled to the brim to the point of being nauseous. "Here you go; eat up!"

Aeson looked on pitifully, steadily ignoring his nephew's silent pleas for help by busying himself with some chores. In fact, he'd tuned out whatever he's doing, no longer realizing he's been scrubbing the same spot for nearly half an hour already.

Both elderly couples were happy of their nephew's presence, especially since he's a completely different character from his power-hungry and ambitious father, King Pelias of Iolchos. The _former_ king, Aeson, had long let go of this grudge, as his brother's complete usurpation meant he and his wife weren't left with any choice. It's better recently, given their young son's – and now daughter-in-law, too – fame and political strength, but they lived still humbly after all this time.

Acastus, meanwhile, stiffly stood there, and smiled silently, trying to delay the inevitable when his aunt would force another spoon into his mouth.

Truly, did this couple never spoil their own son? Why did he feel he's being used as Jason's replacement or something?

Well, it's quite understandable. He considered himself to be quite close to that cousin of his, yet there's still so many things that redhead was hiding from the younger man. Acastus didn't even know of the wedding a few days before it actually happened! He did have a few ideas when it'd happen, sure, but the actual invitation arrived via Magecraft so secretive even the magical defenses in the Iolchos royal castle couldn't detect it.

The letter just… _popped_ suddenly in his room, when he's about to sleep.

To this day, he racked his brains on how Jason accomplished that feat, but everything he tried failed to rationalize that feat.

As he played with his food, weighing the balance of pleasing his dear aunt and actually throwing up, the elderly couple reminisced of the days gone by, especially the truly marvelous few days spent at their son's wedding.

Typical Jason, really. That boy left to become an adventurer so suddenly, without prior discussion before the decision, and he showed up on their door with his bride just as sudden. Before they knew it, right after they packed several stuff in a hurry, they're teleported into the wedding venue in the midst of the Arcadian forest. They didn't even get to buy a dowry for Atalanta! It's a whirlwind of activity, too fast for their aging bones to keep up – despite not having passed their middle ages yet, life as humble peasants after stints in the royal palace was quite hard on the elderly couple.

Yes, Jason's money helped. The lack of need to take care of an extra person in the house meant their house chores were fewer, too. The pained groans and complains were mostly an exaggeration, some kind of inside joke between the couple to mock how things had changed all too quickly from their past and present lives.

"A-Aunt… I-I can't eat a-anymore…" Acastus groaned, patting his bloated stomach. His short cropped hair was damp with sweat from the act of overeating, his body laying limp on the chair, much to Alcimedes's delight. His usually lean and well-toned body – following his cousin's example as an adventurer and warrior – was shivering uncomfortably. "P-Please…"

True to his thoughts, the older woman was spoiling him precisely because of the lack of opportunity to do so with her son, who's far more mature than his supposed age since he was small. In fact, there were many cooking tricks Jason taught Alcimedes, instead of the other way around, making her feel ashamed and losing her dignity every time that'd happened.

All she wanted was to be the caring mother who waited for her beloved son to come home from a hard day's of work. As it turned out, Jason preferred to hunt, cook, and eat outside rather than waste time eating her _inferior_ dishes, sullying her honor as his mother.

Really, that son did too much for not just himself, but also his parents! That's why they couldn't stop worrying for him, for fear of him overworking and making a mistake… which could endanger his life. Aeson and Alcimedes had long gotten used to being outdone by their own son – and that's how it's supposed to be. How could they face their ancestors if they produced an incompetent successor?

As she packed up the uneaten food to be consumed later, she asked, "Where do you think Jason's going so soon after his wedding? I'm quite sure Atalanta's excuse of 'adventuring as a honeymoon' is a lie, no? What kind of people…?"

"That's exactly it." Acastus's finger stopped her words, interrupting with his own, "They're _those kinds of people_, Aunt. Don't think too much about it – especially that daughter-in-law of yours. She's renowned for odd decisions like this."

Finally, Aeson gave up on pretending to be doing chores, addressing the young man directly, "Then, do tell us about them. You know us – we prefer staying in this house; far less trouble comes like this. We don't hear much stories from the outside, so pray tell."

Exhaling a big breath and downing a good mug of wine – leftovers from the wedding party, and certainly strong enough to down both elders in one gulp – Acastus began his story.

"Umm… where do I start, really? I met Cousin Jason for the first time in the palace, as you well know, but… Our next meeting after that was in the Thessalian joint military exercise, I think? The one held in Delphi; do you remember?" The young man began, asking the elderly couple for confirmation.

"Well… we certainly don't remember giving him permission to go there in the first place. When was it? It's when… you're 12? 13? Jason should be around 14 back then," Aeson remarked, taking a seat across his nephew. "Did you become adventurers together after that, then? Or did you follow a few years after him?"

"The second one," Acastus admitted. "Father… wasn't particularly fond of my choice, so I had to do a few years of mandatory royal studies before I became a full-fledged adult, and only then I could sneak into the Adventurers' Guild and register. Jason has already become a B-Ranker by then, if I'm not mistaken."

"Haa… That boy always did things fast, didn't he?" Alcimedes sighed. "We have records of his adventures here, but… there's no beating listening from a first-hand account, isn't there?"

Putting a palm up to stop her request, the young man said, "I'm not really the person to tell that, really. My parties rarely, if ever, intersect with him, and he almost always did solo missions because he tended to take higher-level ones compared to his own. The Guild Master controversially allowed him to do that constantly, though no one is protesting now…"

The elderly couple laughed, before settling with other kinds of casual conversation, not noticing the real intention of Acastus's presence here.

Shortly after the wedding, his cousin requested him to stay in his parents' house and guard them, for fear of retaliation from whatever mission he's going to undertake. He suspected it had something to do with the sudden appearance of privacy barrier and separate dimension during dinner, right before Athena departed the area. Perhaps the goddess laid out a high-ranking mission to the group present? Must be something huge, considering the members available.

All of the S-Rankers, more than half a dozen A-Rankers, and some B-Rankers, including Acastus himself. He wasn't chosen to participate in that meeting, but from seeing the expression of the people after that, he guessed it had something to do with the safety of the world, _at the minimum_.

He could've asked Jason nicely for some details, but growing up in the royal castle taught him there were certain things one shouldn't know, and shouldn't pry if they wished to keep their heads intact.

Not even the threat of King Pelias, Acastus's ruthless father, could make Jason this worried of his parents' safety. For sure, the opponent this time was _far_ above his own pay grade. Divine beings? Monsters? Evil magi?

Like he said, better the things he did not know…

\- Smash!

"Ah!"

"Aunt! Are you alright?!" Acastus, being young and fit, had already maneuvered his way around the table, checking if Alcimedes was bleeding or not.

Aeson arrived there first, though, pulling the woman back slightly to avoid the debris lying on the floor. "Are you hurt, dear? That's…"

However, instead of responding to both men's concerns, she looked on to the smashed ceramic plate, dazed and silent, as if burning the shape of the debris and cracks into her mind.

"This is… his favorite plate…" she murmured softly, which both men picked up.

After a while, Acastus cheekily said, "Well, I hope that's not a bad omen or something…"

The prince's casual words failed to lighten the weight in the elderly couple's heart, however.

* * *

Hecate loved spending time on the edge of a precipice, bathing under the moonlight while thinking of nothing in particular. She had deep connections to it, though not as pure as Selene, because her aspect of [Trinity] was most often displayed by the satellite being. Its Ultimate One, too, had chosen the other goddess to represent him in this world, thus Hecate had no desire to really fight for it.

Besides, she had more things to worry about, despite looking air-headed and calm from the outside.

Her petite legs swung back and forth, suiting her child-like body in their movement, but her mind was working furiously, aided by all three of her Memory Partition working with Thought Acceleration – both Magecrafts she pioneered. Some of her believers had succeeded in surpassing her in terms of quantity, but for quality, her divine mind was unmatched.

Each part was near Athena's intelligence, and she dedicated all three of them to different tasks and emotions at the same time, before evaluating the most optimum approach to any particular situation. That was why she displayed a rare aggression against Æëtes, and an equally rare moment of leniency towards Medea.

This was the one attribute she had which made her superior to Athena. Despite the latter's martial prowess, tactical nous, and overarching thought process, she was inevitably hamstrung by her own limitation of singularity, both in terms of minds and hearts. Besides, Hecate was always better at locking away and dissolving her emotions than Athena, whose [War] aspect made her rather reckless sometimes, thinking a 'grand plan' of hers would work without meticulous analysis of possible failures.

It's ironic sometimes her personal actions looked stranger and more ruthless than Athena, as it's what her own personal discussion with her [Trinity] declared, such as the one time she 'scolded' Æëtes, or advised Medea and Circe fairly without her usual coldness.

Cold wind blew, fluttering her medium-length teal bands and white cape about. She raised one hand to keep her large hat from falling over, lightly closing her eyes to enjoy the breeze.

This is a side of her even she herself didn't enjoy showcasing too much. Being a deity meant there's always something to take care of or guard against, and woe would it be if she did let someone go past under her nose like what happened to Athena's 'daughters', the Gorgons. It's clear that blow was taken very seriously by the other goddess, as her meticulous and calculating nature took failures very personally.

There was little doubt Athena had already prepared several steps to strike back against the perpetrator. She hadn't shared her plans with Hecate, mainly due to their relative lack of contact – they didn't hang out together, since she had her other personalities to keep her company – and the need for secrecy. Hecate's take on the case was to conclude one of the Olympians must be responsible – they're the only ones with a convenient enough access to use their Authority on the island of Sarpedon, compared to the Protogenoi or the Titans.

As to which one… Hecate didn't really care, to be honest. Firstly, this was Athena's family's matter, and it'd be unbecoming for her to be too nosy about it. Hecate might not appreciate the restrictive manner of diplomacy the recent generation of deities practice among themselves, but she had at least this much tact. Secondly, her own brethren weren't directly involved in this matter, though Medea had inclinations of joining Jason's adventures.

The last time she saw her youngest student, she was just starting out as an adventurer. The chances of her meeting with the highest-ranked and most popular adventurer and noble was slim, and the level of danger would also be appropriately small. Circe might be mischievous, but the older magi was responsible enough, at least in regards to her younger apprentice-sister. Hecate could count on the latter to keep an eye on-

\- Crack.

"Mu…?!"

Her long, ornate khakkhara lying on her side had suddenly developed a hairline fracture, near the junction between the intertwining triangles and the uppermost tip. It's a sound near-imperceptible even to the best divine hunters, but as the staff was born from her, she could clearly feel the changes happening to it.

Most magi copied her appearance in wielding long staffs about the size of an adult male, consciously or not. It's a form of reverence and respect to her, as the proprietor of Magic and Magecraft, and naturally Medea and Circe also wielded their own versions. Skilled magi would construct their own staff out of their personalized choice of materials – some mystical, some mundane – and her students incorporate parts of their bodies into their staffs.

And now, hers just cracked without any logical reason.

The opposite of [Logic] was [Mystery]. Therefore, the latter must be the answer.

A bad omen.

_Something _had happened. Hecate wasn't sure what, but she willed the crack to close, before abruptly standing up.

With a wave of her arm, a kaleidoscopic tear in reality opened near her, into which she jumped.

* * *

"Oh? That's quite a novel solution you're working on."

Under Sir Shirō's gaze, Medea's fingers trembled, nearly fumbling her own handwriting on her journal. After all, his face was right there on her shoulder, almost touching cheek-to-cheek, causing blood to flow not to her arms to write, but to her face instead. However, with the discipline her teacher had instilled in her about all things regarding Mystery, she composed her movements and completed the sentence, before scurrying half a step away to look at the man properly.

"S-Sir Shirō… you surprised me! I nearly wrote the wrong thing!" She complained adorably with an expression still influenced by traces of baby fat on her face. Medusa was quickly shedding these, almost abnormally so, but Medea was a healthy, normal young woman – physically, at least. Her talent in Magecraft was monstrous in comparison. "Y-You know full well the dangers in our arts!"

He chuckled, patting her head. It's rather jarring seeing her like this, from this point of view of him being much taller than her. The memories of 'Shirō Emiya' all consisted of them speaking eye level, as Medea was in fact slightly taller than the young boy back then. Blame genetics for it – just the difference between a European woman's body reared with the best the Colchian royal family could muster and an Asian boy whose guardians couldn't even provide decent meals for him, apart from paying for the ingredients. Oh, and let's not forget the fact he was buried in burning rubble, covered with Aŋra Mainiiu's remains, when he's small. That must've done something to his body, for sure.

He continued after that, "The forced takeover of a subject's Magic Circuit through magically-supported operation? Isn't that too risky to attempt in the heat of battle?"

"W-Well… I was thinking of applying it as another method to cleanse particular curses," she admitted slowly, nervous of talking about Magecraft with a more seasoned practitioner. She felt like she's in one of Hecate's exams – high-strung and afraid of failure. "So the patient would be lying still."

"Hoo… that's quite a good idea, like I said earlier. Have you thought of a name for it yet?"

"Umm… I think 'Pain Breaker' will do."

He shrugged, though the light in his eyes indicated she picked a good name. "Any thoughts of the problem I just put forth? Because we're in the middle of a journey fraught with battles, how about you tackle it from a combatant's perspective? It may give you some breakthroughs; you can evaluate your original calculations after that."

Indeed, the past few days, despite the _Argo_'s speed, there's still some creatures and unsavory characters who desired to harm the crew. Fortunately, the members present were far and away above most pirates and monsters, as even Herakles's manservant (and secret lover), the handsome Helias – a C-Ranker like Medea – were able to deal with them almost single-handedly.

Atalanta had been rather moody lately – or, should he say 'again'? – and took out her frustrations on those poor opponents, sniping each and every one who managed to sneak one step past the defensive perimeter they'd set up into smithereens. It's good practice for both Medea and Medusa, too, to apply the new things they'd learned from the veterans around them.

It seemed being at sea took the Arcadian princess out of her comfort zone. Oh, she could swim well – there's enough ponds and rivers in the mountains to practice – and she's not being seasick… or pregnant. Perhaps it's the salty air, or the lack of variety of landmarks, or something else. He's simply not sure, but believed in her enough to let her do her own thing. She'd honestly tell him if something was seriously wrong, after all.

It also meant Asclepius was complaining about not having enough patient to treat, but that's a price Sir Shirō was willing to pay, as Medea recounted their recent ordeals.

They're rapidly closing on the dive point to Atlantis, which was a gigantic whirlpool in the southern parts of Ionian Sea, close to the border of the Mediterranean. It's far too tight a timetable for Medea's liking, who preferred a steady and calm environment for her research, but the quality of data she received was far too precious to complain.

She nodded at her idol's suggestion, before running him through some of her previous experiments.

The basis of it was eerily close to a futuristic method called 'Spiritron Hack', practiced by the new breed of magi in Earth's parallel future. While in that reality it was performed as an entry point into a digital world, here and now, when magic energy was abundant, it's possible to execute it in the real world. Medea certainly had the magic capacity and talent to do it, and even if she came short, Sir Shirō would be at hand to give her a boost, though his Od was sub-optimally incompatible with hers.

Still, it's a better option than having Herakles do it. He'd probably accidentally crush her bones while he's at it. Medusa still lacked the control to do so, while the rest of the adventurers just didn't have the magic energy capacity to be worth the effort. Chiron perhaps could do it better, but the Guild Master wasn't present, so that idea's moot – and nor did Circe.

The older apprentice-sister to Medea had the best compatibility with her, having studied under the same master for so many years. Though their personality might differ, the ways Mysteries work was… _mysterious_, quite literally. There were many occasion from Shirō's point of view, after browsing through data from the Akashic Records, when diametrically opposite people actually got along well together, and very similar people became bitter enemies.

The problem with her desire to complete this technique was the infinite variation of spiritual pathways inside a living being, no matter whether they're made of organic materials or not. Unlike Moon Cell, whose structure was at least constant and decently-understood, using this on live on another individual was akin to shooting a bullet blind, expecting the target stayed in the same place or existed in the same shape.

What she's working on was the base equation which could be applied to the existing variations, similar to how Sir Shirō's Tracing had its firm conceptual basic steps, before the details were filled in later in the process. He helped her with the understanding of the Root – though he disguised it by using different terms – where this 'base' was located.

She was inspired by his rough explanation of his favored Magecraft, which flattered him somewhat. Seeing a young, beautiful girl with sparkling eyes worshipping his every step made him felt awkward, in a way he's not sure how to respond to such attention. Atalanta's and Medusa's love for him – and perhaps Hippolyta's and Circe's – were all different from her… both a blessing and a curse.

\- Static.

"Mgh…!"

All of a sudden, Medea dropped the quill in her hand, quickly holding her forehead due to the sudden stinging pain in her head.

Sir Shirō had already grasped her shoulder and laid her down on the floor, holding her head slightly higher than her body in a classic medical position. He sensed the spike in Od just now, and realized something was _very _wrong.

"Are you too tired? You can continue this later on…"

Before he could say anything else, she shook her head and interrupted, "N-No…! This is… different. Like… I was shown s-something just now… But I can't remember it! Why?! I'm so useless!"

He firmly pinched her cheek to bring her out of her stupor. "Calm down and analyze it. That's it; breath in, and out…" He commented after seeing her follow his advice. "From my perspective, your sudden unnatural outburst meant it's not just mental, but spiritual. It didn't just show something in your head, but it's definitely connected to a place in your heart."

Medea groaned a few times, leading to Sir Shirō rubbing her temples with some free fingers. Ever sensitive to the sound of pain, Asclepius's footsteps could be heard rushing towards their location, which was the general-purpose wide room in the first level below the upper deck.

"How is she?" The redhead tersely questioned. In front of a medical professional, the curter a question was, the better it'd be received by the healer's brain. "Any potential lasting damage?"

Asclepius's medical scanning field Magecraft was already deployed even before he got to their sides, and after a few silent seconds, he cast a sleeping spell on the young girl. "Nothing major. It's a spike of blood pressure caused by unknown reason. I sensed an external force acting on her Magic Circuits, and because the _Argo_ is under constant protective spells, I presume this is from the Sisters of Fate. Only they have the affinity to bypass everything with a single-target spell."

"It's not a spell," Shirō concluded, as the A-Ranker raised one eyebrow in confusion. "She… told me about a vision. It must be important, though I'll pull the images later; she didn't remember anything at the time of the incident."

Asclepius nodded. "I saw this phenomenon often when performing regular rounds in temples, where the seers base themselves. This isn't a particularly severe case; the pain was likely due to her inexperience in this field. I think you'll be able to give more explanation than me in this regard."

"What do you mean?"

"You have had plenty of 'visions', right? I heard you've been having them even before you registered as an adventurer," the long-haired healer said, relaying the information he read somewhere. "After this, do take some time to reassure and calm her down. It's critical, especially for one's first time."

Now knowing what Asclepius was referring to mistakenly, Shirō scratched his cheek awkwardly. There's no way he could explain those 'visions' were actually information gleamed from the Akashic Records to Asclepius or Medea – even Atalanta or Chiron had only vague ideas about this 'ability' of his. It's basically a cheat familiar to fiction writers, whose protagonists often came equipped with unnatural knowledge of their destinies.

"Understood."

That's all he could say in response, before taking Medea back to her quarters.

* * *

Lately, Goetia had been feeling more and more irritated more often, instead of the sense of calm assurance it preferred when executing its master's plans. When everything's in control and predictable, that's when disasters could be prevented and countered. Seeing its youngest 'sister' failed so miserably only heightened its desire of accomplishment, not out of pride, but of genuine wish to see Pandora's dreams come true.

To spit in the face of those deities who betrayed her. To crush those 'higher beings' who claimed to bring forth the world's salvation, only to reign over it like their toy box. To unleash the darkness held within her as spite to the creator who birthed her and abandoned her to the whims of said deities.

However, lately, its desired state of self-control had been tested, both by the actions of those around it and those who acted against them.

Firstly, Ars Notoria was _gone_.

It's no surprise she lost against the Heroic Vessel. He was, after all, _complete_, unlike Goetia and the rest of the tomes. Notoria's awakening was far faster than expected, but her strength was adequate enough for it not to detect any further abnormalities. Thus, Pandora and Goetia let her execute her plan, fully knowing there's a chance – however small – that it'd fail utterly and miserably.

Of course, dealing with Alaya, it _always_ happened.

However, what's most intriguing was the fact Notoria's Divine Essence never managed to make its way back to Pandora.

All five tomes were parts of her, born from the simple need of mobility. They were given form from All the Evils of the World inside her, borrowing the shapes of humans' fertile imagination on what constitutes those evils. As such, their solid mass should've been only a shell, and their Divine Essence should automatically return to Pandora to be refreshed over a long period of time.

Goetia couldn't feel this process happening, so he was unaware of this problem until its master informed him of it. Or, rather, the _lack_ of it.

Pandora couldn't even sense Notoria's current status or location – only her final moments before the Heroic Vessel struck her down. SHIRŌ's Reality Marble already obscured the connection between Pandora and Notoria, as its perfected form meant _he_ was god in there, not anyone else. Not Zeus, not his predecessors, not Pandora…

…not even Alaya.

Pandoda had several theories she vaguely described to the oldest tome, before cutting their mental connection to resume gathering her strength to break free of her seals and revive the other remaining three tomes.

And _that's _where the problem started.

Two of the tomes reacted with something outside of the chamber where the Flames of Olympus – and Pandora – was located… and teleported out by themselves without assuming their respective humanoid forms. Ars Paulina and Ars Almadel weren't particularly strong in combat, unlike Goetia and even Notoria, but their supportive skills were too valuable to ignore.

Other than it all, it simply filled Goetia with an emotion it hadn't felt for a long time – _rage_.

Not since it was born and shared its 'mother's' memories and emotions. Not since it gained enough sentience to understand her hopes and dreams. Not since it saw the other four tomes born, with internal flames burning with jealousy.

Of course, realizing they would only aid its 'mother', that particular emotion was quickly doused by a cold, hard, rational thinking.

But… now? Even if it didn't know or understand what's going on… did it not look like the two had _abandoned_ their master? Their cause? Their reason of existence?

'_No, calm down…'_

This kind of thing was exactly the hole Alaya needed to ruin their plan once again. And, judging from the speed the _Argo_ was approaching Atlantis right now, the Heroic Vessel had also sensed this opportunity to strike.

Did the two have a similar relationship like what Goetia had with Pandora? Was it a loving, worshipful engagement, where both parties understood each other deeply without even speaking? Or was it just a pact of coincidence, where two different individuals simply had the same goal and enemies?

Perhaps the latter was incorrect, since that was the 'Counter Guardians' project, not this one. Goetia had never witnessed the former by its own eyes – not even the more obscure and common Counter Force – but that's what it gleamed from Pandora's knowledge. It's indicated the future would be full of the Counter Force's corrections, including the aforementioned Guardians being deployed.

It also drew the conclusion that humans were too stupid to be left on their own, always seeking things which would lead into their own destruction every time, forcing Alaya to act. An attitude befitting the animals they truly were, to be frank.

However, regardless of what its thoughts were, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

With a thought, it summoned a silhouette into the room he's in, right at the center of Atlantis.

A dark-skinned woman lifelessly stood, before kneeling down robotically with false respect. Her white hair and fur covering her animalistic traits stood out, even among the inhuman beings Goetia had the pleasure of knowing – and devouring – especially in the dark central chamber of Atlantis. A long spear, taller than she herself was, laid horizontally on the floor as a sign of surrender.

"How goes our prisoner?" Goetia growled out, intentionally using its more threatening tone – no matter how useless it was against a brainwashed individual. "I take it she still breathes?"

"Yes, sir," the busty woman emotionlessly answered, nodding weakly. "Lord Poseidon is _occupying_ her as we speak."

"Good. You may leave. Simply make sure our prisoner is alive until the time we have discussed," it curtly ordered, waving its hand and de-summoning the woman away.

Caenis quickly adapted into the sudden change of location and lighting, having her sense enhanced to the point she barely required her sight to move just as well as anyone else. Besides, this variation was somewhat familiar to her, given the modifications done to her current body.

For a mortal woman to be able to accept the body of a god, certain… _changes _must be made.

She could scantly remember her life before this one – as Poseidon's woman, slave, and warrior. All she could gather was glimpses of general household chores, of rearing little children, and a quaint little village. It's completely alien to this place, Atlantis, with all its technological advancements and divine protection enabling it to exist underwater, able to rise or fall through the ocean like a fish.

Here, the sun rarely shines, apart from the occasion Poseidon decided to bring the city to break the ocean's surface to bathe in sunlight every now and then. Not even the moon was given any more quarters, either; most illumination in the city came from bioluminescent plants and animals. For her, whose sun-kissed skin was bronzed under its potent warmth, it should feel unnatural and discomforting, just like a caged migratory bird who's used to crossing continents.

Still, that thought became rarer and rarer, as her time in Atlantis meant her heart was unknowingly changed slowly, ever so imperceptibly, into accepting her current role, sapping her desire to rebel against her current fate.

Originally, Poseidon should've released her sooner, as his fickle nature meant one good sex was enough for him to let her go, possibly with a blessing as compensation. However, Goetia's sudden appearance and control over her current master meant that decision never came, leaving her an empty husk patrolling the hallways and gates of Atlantis, not even called once to warm Poseidon's bed anymore.

But now, she had more important duties to take care of.

Such as feeding the prisoner.

\- Srrt.

Roughly, she gathered the dirtied pink locks in her hand, lifting the female prisoner's limp head to check on her facial condition.

"Aaa… Uaaa… Aaahhh…"

Her groans didn't mean anything to Caenis, for several reasons.

One… no words a person in this state would mean anything to her, whose heart had been transformed to be dedicated to her job. Two… this woman's tongue, throat, and practically every other inch of her body defiled, hard enough to leave her unable to form any other words but pained moans. Third…

'_Ah, I can't think of anything else…'_ she absent-mindedly thought to herself, as she observed the mangled rows of teeth of this particular prisoner.

Fresh. That's the adjective popping up in her head.

Caenis shoved the bruised and bloodied face back down to the floor, letting the mutilated back of the woman come into view. Two red, raw, fleshy craters were apparent around the area where the lower shoulder bone should be, courtesy of having the fluffy black wings Caenis got a glimpse when she arrived brutally ripped off. The screams at that moment failed to incite any tremor in her heart, as her master was doing a fine job in 'handling' this prisoner.

The wolf-eared woman nudged her metallic boot underneath the pink-haired… well, it's closer to a corpse now than anything really…

Anyway! Caenis used her toes to lift and throw the limp body elsewhere, as holding onto the limbs would prove fruitless, because every major joint had been shattered and tendon slitted. It was quite odd, as the beastwoman wasn't used to dealing with a body sprawled in weird angles, but that's not her job to worry.

With a thought, she spun the long spear she carried and transformed the blade at the end, splintering it into multiple thin strands… and started mopping.

Because of the nature of the prisoner hold, cleaning Magecraft couldn't be used liberally to disinfect every corner. Most magi, even with so much of their body parts disabled, would find a way around the existing limitation so long as they found one tiny crack. However, for practicality's sake, the entire compound couldn't be made entirely with Anti-Magic materials… meaning, only authorized personnel carrying divine traits could perform Magecraft of the tiniest order.

Having traces of Poseidon's sperm still in her body, Caenis barely fulfilled the condition, enough to transform her spear into multiple simple shapes. For certain, she couldn't utilize her full potential in this place, but most importantly, neither could any prisoners here.

She heard the broken, placid body she kicked away earlier – which elicited a ghastly grunt when the pink-haired body hit the floor – was a great warrior or magus of some kind. Her muddled mind couldn't quite process the details – so long as she did her job, it meant her body would be allowed to rest. Not before, not after. Just like that: simple.

\- Sss…

She heard the sliding door open before her.

It's one thing which Atlantis had over the rest of the city-states: creative technology. While on the surface world, this design would be too cumbersome to operate and inefficient to power, given the restriction Gaia enacted upon the world with laws such as [Gravity] and [Friction], Atlantis's underwater location meant the use of contrasting liquid pressure was abundant, leading the engineers to be able to utilize the blessings of the ocean around them to use things other city-states couldn't.

For instance, other than the sliding door, most of the applications across the place were powered by extracting Mana-rich water from the ocean depths. It meant most inhabitants could use their own Od for something else, instead of constantly needing to siphon parts of themselves to maintain automated procedures.

Caenis carelessly turned around.

Why the caution, really? Atlantis was presently located near its deepest ever-recorded depth, around the Pillars of Hercules. It was usually parked here for convenience's sake, as it's where the Protogenoi of the [Sea] was last seen before he passed on his Authority to his successor Titan. While it's not geographically the most secure location, as Atlantis could dive even deeper, the easy access to a highly-concentrated mine of Conceptual Weight – and one which suited Poseidon, no less – meant it's in the optimum place for either attacking or defending.

It's most likely her master checking up on things. Or perhaps that large, strange humanoid with a skull-like face who hung around Poseidon lately. Either way, the two had shown plenty of attention regarding this particular prisoner's state, so it's only logical they'd be the one to-

Before she could complete her thought, a large beam of light swallowed her entire being, blasting her and the surrounding walls clean off.


	21. Trace, on

**Hello, everyone! I've got to tell you: the responses for last chapter were better than I expected, simply because I myself don't like seeing those kinds of pre-arc chapters when I read fanfiction. Glad I did a decent job for you guys, at least! Still, I want to direct you to this story's brand-new re-written spin-off, HV-E01: Reality's Phantasm, hosted by Erithemaeus in this site. It's really gotten going, a fresh take on the character in a different setting. Want to know more? Don't ask me for spoilers; just go over there and review to give it some love! They've done a good job, and it's an honor to be selected as the focus of their writing efforts and talent among many other TYPE-MOON fanfiction series out there.  
**

**A serious question to all of you: Will Lord El-Melloi's Case Files receive a second anime season? I greatly enjoy that show!**

**The mailbag!  
****Lost Stardust1: [the review's excerpt] The aspect of [Trinity] is prevalent in cultures older than Abrahamic religion. Hecate is the best example in Greek mythology, because she's outright often portrayed as having three faces in several ancient worship places. Other than the Greeks, there's also the Hindu, Buddhist, Taoist, and even Celtic mythology who consider the number '3' - and the concept of [Trinity] - sacred, and worshiped as such. It's also applied to concepts, not just individuals; for instance, there are records of several version of planar of existence based on the number '3' and its multiples. The Eye of Providence is a triangle. Mathematics and physics basically works on the concept of triangles.  
tsun: ****Well, she's been subjected to more than that, if you read carefully enough...  
Trasgo Madaraz Artifex: ****Aster will show up later, but not in the manner you think. I'm going for TYPE-MOON lore for this instance.  
Thanlong90 & AlernateReality: ****Precisely. It's intentionally done, since this story's M-rated too. ****Thank you for the review.**

**Warning: Cliffhanger inbound.**

* * *

"Uncle, can you still manage?" Atalanta tersely asked, her worry palpable through her voice, though it still wouldn't show up easily on her face. "Perhaps we should take turns?"

The old hunter boisterously laughed, shaking his roughly-trimmed beard in the process. He wanted to pat his niece's head as a gratitude for her concern, but his hands were both busy controlling the _Argo_ during its arduous descent through the Mediterranean Sea, so he couldn't.

Instead, he explained, "Even if I wanted to, no one is experienced enough in helming a ship as I am among the crew. I'm struggling, yes, as you could see, but I can still steer it safely and speedily. Let's not jeopardize your husband's timetable, shall we?"

His stock and muscular body was visibly straining against the immaculately crafted and cured wooden wheel, itself already a slimmer and lighter version of the usual, cheaper ones found in ordinary shipping vessels. Yet, the forces of the current grew fiercer and more unpredictable as they approached Atlantis – fortunately only a natural mechanism, instead of being a deliberate obstacle placed by Poseidon and his cahoots to prevent unauthorized entry.

If the latter was the case, then surely the current would be far deadlier than this near-unnatural one, enough to smash the ship with one hit even as the _Argo_ was encased in a protective bubble, enabling it to dive underwater.

\- Creak… Creak… Creak…

It's just barely enough to hold the ship's integrity together… and even then, a combined effort from Medea, Castor, and Pollux – the ones who'd mastered [Water] and [Ice] Elements – was required to maintain and fix whatever's wrong with the barrier along the way. There's no exaggeration in saying this was a strenuous activity at best… and suicidal, at worst, as something which could threaten Athena's enhancements on this ship should be far beyond anyone with mortal blood to contend with.

Despite their divine ancestry, the three young adventurers were visibly straining with effort, especially the girl. She also was the sole reason they're speeding up their target time, and the one who's being the least efficient due to the intense worry displayed through her body language.

Shirō was supervising the effort, constantly reminding them not to overreach themselves, but the girl's not listening. Medusa was pacing nervously back-and-forth, while Herakles was… _being himself_, casually snoring in a nap – which he claimed as 'preparation' for the upcoming battle.

The redhead wasn't too worried about this exertion, however. He could tell that even while doing this, Medea was still researching and simulating all situations in her head, befitting how a magus would think – if they somehow embraced their own humanity and emotions like she was doing right now. All of the information they had regarding Atlantis and Poseidon had been revealed to her without restraint – also to all the other members – so they were able to formulate their own emergency responses to things outside of their plan.

* * *

"_Do you think… this 'Spiritron Hack' can be used against an entire complex of Magecraft, like in a Workshop, Temple, or something even larger?"_

_Patting her head, Shirō admired her resourcefulness. "If you dare dream it, I think you can achieve it. I believe in you, just like your master and senior apprentice."_

_The blush appearing on her face made even Atalanta salivate to hug Medea, such was her adorableness._

* * *

The bad omen was worrisome, however.

Medea's acquaintance… numbered very few. And those who're close enough to her to activate the Sister of Fate's warning and physically manifested itself as an 'omen' could be counted in one hand.

And one of them – Lord Jason – was right here beside her.

So it left two probable candidates: Circe… or Hecate.

The latter was mighty, so Medea wasn't particularly worried about her. Despite the goddess's dislike of jovial acts, she was surprisingly pragmatic and mischievous when it came to the application of the Magecraft she taught Medea and Circe. Also… even with the two younger magi's talents, they couldn't even begin to fathom the depth of Hecate's strength. There's no doubt when she's in a pinch, she already had several countermeasures not even her fellow Olympains knew of and would survive, removing the necessity for the 'omen' to exist in the first place.

This opinion applied to Lord Jason – or Sir Shirō, like he preferred to be addressed among friends and family – because he's such an experienced and powerful warrior. If one bad omen was enough to endanger him, then surely he wouldn't survive all this time and ascended into the S-Rank, would he?

Which only left one possible hypothesis: Circe was in grave danger.

Medea's body felt hot.

She's familiar with this sensation – of pushing her Magic Circuits to near their physical and spiritual limits. Hecate trained her reserves this way to increase their quality and quantity, by constantly forcing her to empty her Od daily ever since she's a toddler to grow it. As she grew older, this feeling occurred less and less, mostly because her advancements far exceeded Hecate's expectations, as Medea's divine blood was quite thin – being Helios's granddaughter, not his direct descendant – and also because her efficiency made using up all her Od quite difficult.

However, this wasn't the time to be conservative with anything. The single woman Medea's ever loved could be nearing her dying breaths with every second they took to reach her. Her only real family apart from her younger brother who loved her just for who she was, not because she's the Princess of Colchis.

Her father cared for her, true, but only to the extent of putting an investment into a prized cattle… until the moment Medea's ready to be sacrificed for the betterment of the kingdom.

She perhaps had an inkling of this since a few years ago, but her teenaged mind and heart refused to fully embrace this idea, stubbornly clinging onto the idea of King Æëtes just being overprotective. That's why she childishly went along with Circe's plan in the first place, instead of taking the more 'adult' decision of trying to change things from the inside, accumulating political power by her side to resist her father's cage around her.

In that golden cage she's been in ever since she's an infant, only Circe had the desire, power, and sincerity to reach her hands out to the young girl. Hecate knew her own boundaries at first, considering Medea only as a talented student at first, and Circe was the first to act to change the goddess's mind. Medea had little doubt Hecate's latest shows of affection to her was initiated by this move from the pink-haired magus, culminating in the three women being closer than sisters.

She heard what Poseidon was willing to do to satisfy his selfish, mortal desires from Medusa. Woe would it be if she let that misfortune to happen to her own 'family'.

The younger girl was positively murderous when she spoke of her own experience, cementing the God of [Sea]'s image in Medea's head.

The burn of her Magic Circuits became a background lullaby to her, allowing her to refocus her senses on her surroundings after the first initial shock. Castor and Pollux didn't have it so easy, despite their perfect synchronization – already an admirable feat – and were religiously closing their eyes to concentrate on the job.

She, meanwhile, had the time to admire the beauty of the underwater flora and fauna they're rushing through, leaving streaks of multicolored light forming a tunnel around the _Argo_ in a mesmerizing combination. She knew every single one of these creatures could possibly be under Poseidon's control, ready to use their breathtaking unnatural beauty to enchant and entrap unwelcome visitors – thus was the ship's speed, enough to disallow anyone a proper enjoyment in viewing their appearance.

Her idol, Sir Shirō, was dutifully watching over from the _Argo_'s bow, with his new wife scanning their surroundings from the highest mast.

Their presence – as well as the napping Herakles – was of great comfort to her, enabling her to not worry of any dangers any spellcaster would have when attempting this large-scale ritual. Normally, for her, maintaining this habitable barrier against inhospitable elements was doable for several individuals near her at one time, but covering a whole ship? Especially one which was enchanted by Athena herself, which would interfere with normal spells? For sure, she needed the Dioscuri twins' assistance in this.

They're burning through large amounts of magic energy, yes, and it's dangerous to resupply using the ones floating underwater, as they might let in Poseidon's influence through their systems, but Medea could care less.

So long as Circe was saved, she'd give up her life if necessary.

There's one thing she'd learned from her fellow veteran adventurers, and that's 'fighting spirit'. The readiness to sacrifice one's own flesh to tear their enemies' bone asunder; to give away their own possession to the unfortunate, even if the balance was off. Equivalent Exchange didn't work in real-life interaction with others, if Medea were to ascend in ranks. She had to throw away the preconception bred into her by her birth environment, and embrace her new life as a free woman, away from her father's influence.

And it included doing reckless things like this… no, _especially_ things like this.

Because if she couldn't even save the person who's her family, what's the use of her learning Magecraft? What's the point of suffering under Hecate's intense training if she couldn't put in into good use? What's the point of denying her heritage so she could live her dreams, along with the people she truly admired and respected?

That's why… she'd go pass her limits, even if gods were in her way.

* * *

"Metis, how far are we from target?" Aegis calmly asked as they flew non-stop from Athena's territory, pass the boundary between the divine and mortal plane, towards Atlantis. "Positive or negative?"

"Negative," the youngest sibling replied, shaking her dark hair and pale-skinned head. "We should arrive there late."

"…I hope we're not _too _late," Labrys said, frustrated, despite already having their back thrusters operating at near-maximum capacity.

The three 'daughters' of Athena were currently flying over the ocean, chasing after the _Argo_ as part of the group's reinforcements. Athena, using her [Wisdom], decided the risk was still far too high for only this one group to challenge Poseidon and whoever was backing him. Therefore, the three of them, of a later generation than the Gorgon sisters and more 'perfect', were sent in this first mission of theirs.

Disregarding the fact their 'older sister' was currently on that ship, this task was their first chance to prove they're not a waste of resources to their 'mother'.

Of course, they all knew Athena wouldn't think of them like that. Despite her many 'failed' projects, she still kept them around and had them serving her purposes in some fashion, giving them a sense of life and direction. However, the three siblings were eager to avoid that fate if possible, as they considered themselves superior in terms of pure performance compared to their predecessors' models.

Unlike the Gorgon sisters, who're conceived spiritually from the hopes and dreams of humanity, as well as shreds of divinities from various deities, Labrys, Aegis, and Metis were high-performance homunculi-slash-golems, artificially constructed as to withstand the heavy enchantments Athena placed and engraved on every fiber of their being. A flesh-and-blood body might have its advantages – namely the [Humanity] in it holding near-limitless potential – but this approach provided the trio with a higher base status practically since their birth.

It's a new internal construction Athena prototyped, combining a golem's practicality and durability with a homunculus's more delicate and tidier design. As a result, the usual mechanical joints and cabling were absent, with their weapon loadout cleverly hidden with liberal usage of the [Space] Element, mimicking what Chiron created with his adventurers' Spatial Bags.

The trio's outward appearance was no different from normal humans, though Labrys did think their expressions were often too muted to truly blend into society, especially her youngest sister. Therefore, she tried her best to mimic a more casual way of speaking, as she assumed by learning one extreme, her own negative traits would be brought and evened out, creating a neutral mannerism so she could seamlessly live among humans, just as her 'mother' intended.

How much her sisters learned from her… she's not quite sure. Aegis was often air-headed, though sincere, while Metis was more guarded and cynical in nature, behaving truer to their artificial nature. Perhaps, over time, they could learn from their older 'sister', Medusa, in how to live comfortably in the mortal world.

But now, they all had a mission to do.

Hopefully, not all hope was already lost, and they could contribute to this mission.

They couldn't move any faster, really, as this speed was already nearing the durability parameters set by their 'mother'. Future upgrades were possible to alleviate this concern, but as the first generation, this was good enough.

Suddenly, Aegis cupped one hand to her right ear, before broadcasting the information she'd just received to her sisters. "The _Argo_ had started its descent some time ago. Our timetable may be closing faster than we expected."

"Sister, our frames can't-" Metis warned, but Labrys cut her off.

"Don't be so pessimistic. Isn't this a good time to test out our limits? If we do so now, we could gather valuable data for use later in combat," she chided, to which Metis pouted lightly. Sighing, she continued, "There _will_ be encounter with some enemies. Make sure to take every single piece of experience ya' can get, 'right!"

The youngest sister shrugged rudely, earning a shake of the head from the eldest.

Just as sharply as before, Aegis barked out, "There's an anomaly in reality around us! Approaching fast! Battle formation!"

Her sisters berated themselves internally for missing out on the clear warning – they all had similar sensors installed within them – due to their personal differences. However, they were quick to respond and hurriedly braked to a halt mid-air, slightly later and offset than Aegis's own movements, who had already summoned her magic cannons from her spatial container.

\- Whooosshhh!

However, the anomaly reading went passed them like they're not even there, before disappearing and becoming undetectable once again.

The three sisters were frozen for a while, unsure of what had just happened.

"That was…" Metis muttered, racking her brain for a possible explanation.

Her sisters attempted the same, but alas, their lack of practical experience was evident in the emptiness of their data bank.

"Tsk! This is why I said what I said earlier, Metis! Didn't ya' understand?!" Labrys spat out, before activating her thrusters once again and resuming their journey.

Aegis, biting her lower lip, patted her forlorn younger sister's head. "Don't worry too much about it. Your cautious approach will work sooner or later; right now, let's back up our sister, shall we?" She kindly smiled, to which Metis reciprocated weakly.

"Mmnnn…"

Following Labrys's rushed flight, Aegis silently mulled on the data they received further. While their lack of previous baseline led them to be unable to determine the identity or the cause for the anomalous reading, there was a clear positive confirmation from it.

'_Operation of Parallel Worlds… I wonder who is able to accomplish such a thing…'_

In any case, she felt this mission they'd been sent to was far more serious than even what their 'mother' had predicted.

* * *

Opening his eyes, Herakles's honed senses immediately took stock of what's around him even before his consciousness fully returned.

Not much had happened… or even that much time had passed, really. He was feeling oddly refreshed, despite the unusually short nap he took. Just a simple shut-eye could be so wonderful, he mused, before filtering through the inventory in his Spatial Bag mentally.

Nearby, he saw Asclepius standing by, ready to assist any magic deprivation which might occur between the three casting the protective barrier around the _Argo_. Medusa was sitting nervously, her hands clenched tightly on the long scythe she currently favored, with her chosen sidearm – two spikes connected by a long chain – wrapped around her waist.

Recent training with him had made her incredibly dangerous, much more so than their first meeting back during Jason's and Atalanta's wedding, when she appeared to be just a little girl caught slightly out of her depth with her uncontrollable power. He felt the restrain around her, likely from a more powerful being's seal to better manage her potential, but even what she could utilize was very rough and unpolished.

Seeing her back then reminded him of his old self, a time when he relied solely on his brute strength to achieve his goals, for the better or worse. Of course, their temperament was far different – to the point he wondered how his life could transpire if he had her humility and patience – but their fighting style was eerily similar, at least the basics of it.

Both of them held tremendous raw physical strength, hidden in their seemingly far-too-thin body. Herakles was by no means could be considered 'small', but his monstrous strength belied his toned, tall, and lean figure, though his muscles were incredibly well-defined from Zeus's blood flowing within him. She, meanwhile, possessed an even more unbalanced power-to-size ratio, though her recent growth spurt made it more manageable to look at.

He had a suspicion she was like him: a demigod. There's certainly a whiff of divine blood emanating from her, stronger and stronger, every time she put forth large amounts of physical effort. However, as this little girl was Jason's woman, he wouldn't meddle in her privacy _too_ much.

Being a nosy drunk would only give one so much leeway, after all.

'_Ah, speak of the devil…'_

"We're about to arrive. Are your Mystic Codes in order?" Jason – no, _Shirō_ – announced, not particularly eyeing him.

However, given Herakles possessed the greatest number of divine weapons at his disposal, it could've only meant him.

Despite the Heroic Vessel's birth into this world prevented Herakles from going through the gruel and mental torture to achieve the fully-perfected God Hand, it seemed the Sisters of Fate still had several tasks in store for him. Unbeknownst to the son of Zeus, he was tracing the steps his original self would've done anyway, through they're mostly regarding the quests to slay beasts, and not menial tasks he would've received because of a royal's pettiness.

Nemean Lion. Lernaean Hydra. Ceryneian Hind. Erymanthian Boar. Stymphalian Birds. Cretan Bull. Cerberus.

The seven beasts Herakles had encountered – though all for different reasons and details from his life which Jason only knew of – all constituted the main parts of his current seven secret weapons. Some of them were even hand-forged by Jason himself – though the process was unknown to him, even after all these years of wielding them and befriending the redhead.

The lion's hide. The hydra's blood. The hind's magical speed. The boar's chaotic chill. The birds' metallic extremities. The bull's vitality. The three-headed dog's hellfire. These seven, along with several techniques he devised with assistance from his fellow S-Ranker, could be considered on par with an entire city-state's armory in terms of quality and quantity. Combined with his natural strength and improved resilience, he truly was a one-man army walking.

Come to think of it, Jason – no, _Shirō_ – did help him a lot in life, huh? Perhaps he should throw another celebration for the younger man later when they returned…

'_No, stop. That kind of thinking is bad luck.'_

Herakles's not experienced in any sort of large-scale warfare, mainly travelling with his mercenary party when he needed something done in a group. However, he'd heard the stories of how the Sisters of Fate loved to play with an individual's life – precisely the ones who carried a loved one's memento into the battlefield. Apparently, they saw it as an affront to the 'theater of murder', where human lives were harvested by the thousands at any one time.

While he had an amicable relationship with the trio, he wouldn't dare to push his luck, especially because this wasn't his mission.

* * *

\- BANG!

The _Argo_ arrived at Atlantis with magnificent brute force.

That was… simply crashing into it and dismounting. That's all.

There was very little time to waste, simply because of the conclusions most of them came to on their way here. Despite their unnaturally high speed, most of them were experienced adventurers, and some of them received formal education when they're young. As such, the group's intelligence couldn't be trivialized or compared to a normal party of adventurers.

Well, that… and the fact two of the three S-Rankers in the entire world was present.

Groups weren't necessary, as they rushed into the heart of the underwater palace as one unit. Separating might cover more ground, but that option was only viable – in terms of safety – when one was unfamiliar with the layout of the place they're tackling. Several seconds before impact, Sir Shirō used his Pure Eyes of Mystic Perception to map out the entire area, before having Medea transmit the imagined blueprint to everyone's head.

It's not just a two-dimensional map, but the entire structure was displayed in real-time, jumping upwards another couple of dimensions. Medea first rooted the base image, as [Vision] was humankind's earliest and most basic Magecraft, before tying an aspect of [Time] and [Space] to the generated model, resulting in a constantly-updating vision where everyone could make their own decision in terms of the lineup and actions required.

Apart from Medusa and Medea, everyone here were veterans of these sorts of raids, as various quests, both from mortals and divinity, often involved these kinds of daring offensive maneuver. The two young ladies had also been training with the group – in however short duration – and their latent potential was enough to cover the gap in experience, especially as a group, where everyone covered everyone without flaw.

Now away from the need to maintain an underwater barrier, Castor and Pollux reverted to their natural Element, [Fire]. Descended from Zeus's [Lightning], but not [Thunder], their mortal mother reduced the former's potency enough to be wielded by demigods like the twins. Only the cold-blooded heat remained in their veins, enabling them to not just focus on the thermodynamically-positive Magecraft their natural talents desired, but also the exact opposite: [Water] and [Ice].

Their mastery of the latter two was suggested when they went on a quest together with Sir Shirō, who was the first to remark the possibility and implant the idea in their head. His words back then made little sense even to them now, but they didn't really care.

They're stronger because of it. They could now protect and provide for their mother and sister in Troy… and most importantly, chase away any annoying suitors for either of them.

"_Corpus."  
"Sanctum."_

Towards the incoming rush of enemies, in a large enough numbers to fully crowd the corridor they turned into, the two calmly switched their positions with those in front and entangled their fingers together.

"**Ἑλένη."**

Multicolored plasma blasted forth from their intertwined palms when punched forwards, creating a cutting space akin to a wide cross. They crackled with energy strong enough to capsize military ships, and of course went through the incoming onslaught with nary a problem.

As soon as they obliterated the wave of bodies – they couldn't be bothered to check for biological details, only the effectiveness of their spell – they rotated back into the group to allow a fresh line, who had prepared another round of attacks, a clear area to target.

Medea and Sir Shirō were near the back, shouting out directions and orders while protecting Asclepius, whose combat abilities were relatively useless in this occasion. While Medea was an expert healer, the A-Ranker was designated as their main party's chief medic, and on the account the younger girl's offensive capabilities were substantial, it's decided she'd be the backup, instead of the main healer.

Atalanta and Medusa were flitting in-and-out of sight, using the hallways' three-dimensional space to move freely from ground, walls, and the ceiling. The Arcadian princess was in her full archery garb, with protective leather – tainted green, as usual – and blasting not only the enemies, but also environmental hazards which might slow them down. The purple-haired girl, meanwhile, was using her monstrous strength to punch her toes and fingers into the walls, enabling her to move just as freely, while using her spiked chain to assist her as she used Harpe to reap the souls of her opponents.

Herakles, as usual, was the main vanguard, bulldozing through the enemies through a combination of strength, speed, and astute judgement on his abilities. After all, he's not an S-Ranker for nothing – said rank required an adventurer to be well-rounded, and not a specialist. Herakles was a master of Greek war weaponry, only eclipsed by the more specialized innate Magecraft of Jason in terms of skill.

The twin, while thinking of this, moved naturally and seamlessly in accordance to necessity. While they hadn't had the chance to participate in large-scale raids with this level of skilled members, their familiarity with several of the members' techniques allowed them better grasp of the rhythm and decision-making.

* * *

"Sharp right!" Medea barked, and the group promptly did as requested.

She bit her lower lips, a myriad of protests bubbling underneath her lightly sweaty appearance. She wanted to rush to clear this 'dungeon' – though a 'palace' was more appropriate, given the luxury surrounding them – but she knew full well the dangers waiting for them if she did so.

Even with the ease their group was blasting through every single obstacle, that spoke more of every single member's skill and strength rather than the sturdiness of Atlantis's defenses. If she was left all alone in this place, and tasked with the same objective, there was no doubt the difficulty – not to mention the time needed – would increase exponentially. There's a very good chance she'd lose her life instead before she could achieve her goal.

And Circe… was experiencing exactly that.

She could feel it. Her senior apprentice was here – a weak pulsing magical trace near the bottom-most level of the palace. There were usually two explanations to this kind of reading: either a magus was deliberately suppressing their magical output but doing a relatively poor job at it… or they were close to death, and unable to control their own body and soul.

Oh, how much she wanted to rush ahead by herself, using her Flight at full boost to rush there before anyone could catch up. However, doing so would definitely led the two of them unable to escape, regardless of Circe's actual condition, as Atlantis – or more specifically, Poseidon – could've simply barricaded al the exits and hunt them down like beasts.

Without telling most people in the group, she was leading them towards her senior apprentice, whose magical traces were diminishing by the second. Medea internally bit her lower lips in guilt, but one meaningful look from Sir Shirō silently approved of her decision.

If they wanted to punish her later, then so be it. Take away all her rewards. Hit her. Abuse her verbally.

Whatever.

What's most important now was to confirm the safety of her family member… _Circe_.

Medea repeated the Eëan witch's name like a mantra in her head, which she subjectively concluded granted her strength and determination. She couldn't falter in any of her steps now – when to attack, defend, or dodge; when to direct her current teammates without breaking their concentration and rhythm; when to assume her offensive and medical responsibilities to cover both fronts…

And also implementing her 'side project' to the entirety of Atlantis.

_This_, even Sir Shirō didn't know about.

Or perhaps he did, and simply didn't let out any sign to her? Probable; there were times when she felt he knew herself even better than she did – or anyone else she knew – and his dreamy hazel eyes could see down to her very soul… including the shameful memories and fantasies she had featuring himself…

Ahem.

Well, that applied to others, too, when she asked her current party members about this discreetly. They felt the same thing, but attributed most of it to the redhead's famous talent at prophecies and connection with the Sisters of Fate – both simply rumors and never confirmed, but that's what the majority of Greece believed in.

After all, if he turned out to be a savior from another timeline or reality… That's just absurd, right? There's no way that's Thaumaturgically sustainable, possible, or logical, because the expense and reward by doing so would be so imbalanced, the act itself would've instantly killed any individual attempting such things.

At least, that's what she learned from Hecate, the authority in this field. She doubted her esteemed teacher paid much attention to what the rumors in the mortal world were like, so Medea took liberties in interpreting her master's teachings in her daily life.

Several explosions happening before her brought her real attention back to the action around her.

As Hecate's prized pupil, mental multitasking was a daily necessity for her. It's not to her teacher's mastery of Memory Partition and Thought Acceleration, as it didn't suit Medea's personality, but doing three calculations at once – offensive Magecraft, healing, and applying the basics of [Pain Breaker] into the entire structure itself – was not the most tasking thing she could've done. It's draining, yes, but still doable, especially because she didn't need to devote another chunk of processing power to defense – Sir Shirō would take care of that.

Normally, being in this situation would feel dreamy and embarrassing for her. How could she not? She'd dreamt of this scenario time and time again through her younger years – of how she'd be flawlessly protected by this handsome prince as they fought together, through thick and thin, and he'd look back at her with a declaration of protection escaping his manly lips…

Over time, she found those kinds of thoughts to be incredibly shameful, not just to herself, but also disrespecting her idol, Lord Jason. After all, dreams and prayers were the most basic forms of curses, and what if she actually did something to harm his survival chance in the field? She'd sooner kill herself than allow that to happen…

The most difficult thing to do was by far the third one. The part of the prototype [Pain Breaker] she's actualy implementing was the 'Spiritron Hack' theory, where she'd try to take control of the entire palace by herself and deny Poseidon the full control he would liberally use if he was here right now.

There were quite a lot of problems, but the main issue was simple.

She just wasn't strong enough.

Taking control of a dungeon – natural or artificial – was mostly accomplished by wrestling away its core from its previous user. It didn't matter whether the latter was human or not, intelligent or not, natural or not… or the former was done by physical contact or long-range Thaumaturgical ritual.

What mattered was the ability of the new user to overwhelm, overwrite, and re-program the core to their preferences. And the sole requirement was that: _power_.

Medea had divine blood running through her, from her grandfather Helios. However, it never manifested its powers grandly or overtly like most divine descendants like Zeus. Even direct children could exhibit differing levels of supernatural powers, and in Medea's case, that was her otherworldly talent to fathom the intricacies and variety of Magecraft.

Unfortunately, not power.

Atlantis's operating system was simple – at the very least, it looked that way for her. It was actually quite outdated, when compared to the final homework projects Hecate assigned her and Circe to do, allowing her to understand its rough structure quickly.

However, when she moved on to the more detailed operation, her spells… just slowed down into a crawl, before stopping entirely.

She simply didn't have enough 'juice', as Circe would say, to fully run her Od and gathered Mana through the leylines powering and maintaining Atlantis. It was akin to a thirsty person trying to empty a lake with a straw, only the other way around – it'd take an impossibly long time to do.

And that time was what they didn't have the luxury to have right now.

Therefore, she had to modify her 'straw' and enhancing it into high-performance ones.

Eliminate any unnecessary steps. Remove all inefficient processes. Compress all operating procedures. Simplify everything else. Repeat. Eliminate any unnecessary steps. Remove all inefficient processes. Compress all operating procedures. Simplify everything else. Repeat. Eliminate any unnecessary steps. Remove all inefficient processes. Compress all operating procedures. Simplify everything else. Repeat. Eliminate any unnecessary steps. Remove all inefficient processes. Compress all operating procedures. Simplify everything else. Repeat.

All she needed to do was focus and not slip up.

Easy enough to do when under fire from Poseidon's best troops, right?

Speaking of which, why was the deity not present right now? The unfortunate defect in the combined four-dimensional model she and Sir Shirō built up was the inability to properly locate the presence of either Poseidon or the individual backing him – the latter which Sir Shirō indicated, but never confirmed. It was due to the lack of proper [Divine] attribute inside them, so that element was missing.

Once again, could his brilliant, silver Pure Eyes see things she couldn't – those he couldn't even share even if he wanted to? No, he could do so certainly with his wife, perhaps due to their coital connection – a thought once bringing forth a fierce blush across her maiden expression – and perhaps with Medusa, given they'd grown much closer to each other when compared to Medea herself.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she reminded herself of Medusa's sudden physical growth, the mismatch of her mental capacity and attitude with her physical age, as well as her astonishing beauty. To Medea, it's no wonder Poseidon was attracted to the little girl, even in her smaller original state, because she'd seen so many deviants fall in love with much younger girls due to a combination of their pure beauty, along with the sense of immorality and conquest when they succeeded in their endeavor.

Well… she couldn't really call them 'deviants' now, could she? Given its still permissible by law, practiced by many nobles – _'Perhaps including Sir Shirō?'_ – and consensual most of the times. It's simply personal preference. Growing up, she certainly knew if Sir Shirō desired her body, mind, and spirit a few years ago, when her monthly blood hadn't even come yet, she'd gladly gave it to him – but if it's any other man, she'd sooner either bite her tongue off or blast her potential suitor into ashes.

So subjective.

* * *

With a roar, Herakles punched down onto the thick slab of marble which served as their would-be floor earlier. It crumbled like eggshells, revealing a tunnel leading straight to the bottom of the palace. It's a weak point located straight when they first stepped foot into this place, so all they had to do was jump down and head straight fo-

"Oi, can you give me some light here, little miss?" The muscular, tall S-Ranker uttered loudly, his voice reverberating strangely in this dark area. His enhanced senses could immediately smell the unbearable stench of excrements and bodily fluids, along with rusted metal. "Wait, hold that thought… Jason, can you cover-"

This was a prison.

All of the veteran adventurers came at the same conclusion roughly around the same time, but what caused Herakles to stop his words was one… well, frankly stupid action of one of their members.

"Miss Medea! D-Don't…!" Medusa hissed, trying to catch up with the suddenly sprinting young magus.

\- Step! Step! Step!

Medea's thin boots splashed through god-knows-what, but she didn't care for the filth spraying onto the edges of her intricate robe.

All of her gear was expensive, far more so than any rookie adventurer had any right to have. However, being royalty did have its perks, especially when she had her teacher and senior apprentice sister to fall back upon, ask advice, and support her equipment. Any self-respecting magus wouldn't allow even the slightest speck of dust to fall unnecessarily upon their visage.

But she didn't care.

Unknown strength powered her legs, allowing her to maintain her distance from the cautious Medusa. Normally, the younger girl – or was she actually older? – would've caught up in a few steps, but the wariness of the dark and traps made the Gorgon's youngest falter.

Medea didn't.

For at the end of their path, their… no, _her_ target laid in wait.

The scale virtual model in her mind overlapped with her sixth Thaumaturgical sense, revealing a sprawled silhouette on the ground, its pinkish hue dim and weak.

There was another person there with shining silver armor and lance, but Medea could care less. A female, she noted, with canine ears and light fur, but she only noted one thing.

This person was healthy. The other people here, locked away in their cells, _was not_.

\- Enemy.

The spell had already left Medea's staff before she could comprehend what she's doing, blasting through the thick mithril door in front of her, along with that wolf-lady she perceived earlier.

Not bothering to check the collateral damage, she rushed and slid towards the dying figure, reaching out with her hands to cradle it, to soothe it from its pain, to heal it-

A wide, herbal-scented palm gripped her shoulder tightly and threw her to one side.

* * *

"Asclepius, can you manage?" I ask.

The long-haired man seriously nodded, having already covered Circe's mangled body with a stabilizing Bounded Field and silently began to operate on it.

I grit my teeth, various negative emotions swirling around this place – including Medea's – entering me and expressing themselves without restraint.

To be honest, I _don't_ want to control it. Not right now.

Not with the biggest prize in front of me.

Asclepius did the right thing, as Medea's catatonic state is sent kneeling beside the Bounded Field, unable to do anything apart from mumbling several dark words and curses with dead eyes. Her delicate frame shivers, undoubtedly feeling this negativity rush for the first time, and her palms are bleeding from clenching her staff too hard.

If she was the first one to touch Circe, there's very little doubt she'd just do more harm than good. A panicked family member was always a first responder's worst nightmare, as their unstable mental state would leave them unable to follow the proper procedure, which would cost them precious, vital time.

Medea's earlier salvo had destroyed whatever internal lighting was available in this 'grand ballroom' – turned into a makeshift high-security prison. I'm glad of it… because for me, having a Pure Eyes right now isn't exactly what I want… as I can see every single detail of Circe's body, and what has been done to it.

A record of my failures.

"Hoo… You are far faster than I anticipated."

The voice – masculine, as furious as the storm – comes from above, where a hole was punched through 2 meters of mithril by Medea earlier, floating gently downwards. He was muscular, with wavy dark hair flowing down his shoulders, his body encased in several disjointed pieces of armor at various places.

A trident can be seen following its master from behind, brimming with the Authority of the [Sea].

I stay silent, forcing the others to do the same. There's no sense in getting worked up right now and yell and scream and threaten illogically.

What's most usable is cold, tranquil fury. Maintain that state, and power should come naturally.

Poseidon's beady eyes scan the room, taking the most time savoring the female members of our group. He chuckles, lecherously grinning. "I have to admit, 'tis not often a mortal's possession brings envy in me. But you've brought your three most precious treasures, Jason of Iolchos."

He finally lands after taking his sweet little theatrical time, and opens his mouth to goad me further.

However, I have already walked past him.

"Come, Herakles. I am in need of your assistance."

The ocean god's surprise is apparent, whirling around while making an insulted face.

He doesn't even realize the method I use to attain my position – right at his back, where I can assassinate him right then and there. Typical Olympians – too focused on their pride to see the smaller details. Athena and her cohorts are the minority, it seems.

Just a simple 'mortal' trick, completely goes right under his nose who's expecting a grandeur of dueling quips and fiery determined quotes.

The tall man follows me silently, eyeing his uncle in disdain, nudging him to one side.

"You dare-!"

"Yes, I do. Besides, you're not even the strongest person in this place, and you know it," I cut him off. "I am heading to that person's place, so be quiet and receive your punishment."

"Ha! What kind of-"

"Those very 'treasures' you desire will be the end of you, right here and now."

Poseidon snickers, shrugging with his shoulder and letting the two of us to go to Goetia's waiting place. I can feel his gaze returning to lick my wife and potential future mistresses' figures – especially Medusa – which elicits an increase in magical output from every member of the group.

I believe.

\- Spiritron Hack complete.

That sound certainly draws Poseidon's attention, before he guffaws at the sight of the limply-standing Medea.

"What? A mere grandchild of Helios wanting to hijack my kingdom? Little child, it'll best of you to do so after you show me your prowess in bed!" He chuckles, explaining, "Your mortal body can't possibly hold-"

Well, he has a point. Like we discussed beforehand, doing this requires a strong enough foundation – doesn't need to be stable or sophisticated – to execute the takeover of Atlantis. Medea doesn't have that. I don't have the skill. Herakles… well, doesn't have anything to do with this, but I include him for comparison purposes.

So, how should a relatively useless, talentless magus reach a level far beyond their natural state?

By faking it, of course.

Poseidon's words are cut off once again due to a shocking phenomenon.

To him, it'll feel like his entire essence has just… _disappeared_. Not absorbed, not sealed, not damaged. Just _gone_.

His trident clangs onto the floor, powerless.

Only now do I think he properly sees Medea's expression, and what quality of steel is lying underneath those soft violet orbs of hers.

Her lips move, just enough to weakly whisper her chant and let out the blood flowing out of her damaged organs.

It isn't caused by any attack. This is simply Equivalent Exchange – to attain the strength necessary, she rebuilds and enhances and restocks her own Magic Circuits in the span of the several seconds we spend speaking to Poseidon.

That's how magi should operate: ruthless, even to their own body, to achieve what they desire.

And right now, there is no greater desire in Medea's soul to see Poseidon simply _die_.

Her words are hauntingly familiar, enough to bring a smile to my lips, as I and Herakles finally take our leave.

"**Trace, on."**


	22. Good & Bad (I)

**Hey, there, everyone! Welcome to the latest chapter! A bit slow on the update, sure, and I do think I'll stick to this pace for a while because of IRL schedules. Apologies for that. I'm glad you all like the prelude combat chapter, though, because the meat & bones is here now! Happy to bring you a chapter I've spent a few months in the making. Also, for those of you looking forward to the next chapter of HV-E01: RP, Erithemaeus's working on several additions to the already-uploaded chapters, in an attempt to paint a stronger setting from those rather short chapters. Please be patient and give them some more love!  
**

**After that short AN, here's the mailbag:  
****Trasgo Madaraz Artifex, Guest, eudog3 & Stratos263: Well... you're not wrong! Only the scale of how far across Atlantis his butt will be kicked around is the question.  
Dangulus: ****Ahaha... That'll come later. For now, enjoy the chapter!  
tsun: ****God of War III's fight with Poseidon lasted... one cutscene? There's nothing to speak about there, really. I also won't say it's about 'saving strength', for reasons future chapters will confirm. Just you wait for it!  
Krowlein: ****I won't confirm nor deny any future pairings. I'll just torture you with anticipation! HAHAHAHA!  
Mo Eazy: ****Hahaha! Yes, that will be too OP, even with the regular, canon Jason.  
PanzerJ & Fenriswolf22: ****Have you realized I like torturing my readers with cliffhangers? Fufufu...  
AlternateReality: [the review's excerpt] ****In reality, if Ancient Greece mythology was portrayed in fanfiction, not even an 'MA' or 'R' rating would've been enough to describe the atrocities everyone did back then. Culturally, our society has changed so much we view those times as barbaric and disgusting (for instance, my portrayal of Medusa's child form in-story), but the destruction of Ancient Greece meant we view them in a partially positive way, as that's what the media is portraying them now with various films and novels. [...] Naturally, if I make a modern setting, then the morality will mirror that timescale as well.**

* * *

Medea was oblivious to everything around her.

Not the conversation between her idol and the sea god. Not the sound of Medusa's hiss at the sight of her most hated individual in existence. Not the nervous sweat dripping down from Asclepius's chin, as he worked his hardest inside his sterilized Bounded Field to heal the patient in front of him.

Not even the thunderous beat of her own heart, or the poisonous and murderous rush of her blood into her head.

Because her soul was crying. Despairing. Agonizing.

Of what could've been. Could she have stopped Circe from going? Could she keep her aunt by her side… no, not even her 'aunt', but closer to a 'sister' now, and prevent her from getting hurt? Could she have persuaded Sir Shirō, the only man most likely to have a decent relationship with Circe beyond a witch and her pet, to convince her to stay?

Could have. Should have. Would have.

\- Not.

\- Static…

The harsh retort of reality slapped her in the face, as the woman she loved laid there in a pool of her own blood, pus, and many other bodily fluids… without Medea being able to help. _At all_.

Deep down, the rational part of her – the one trained and disciplined so harshly by Hecate as a magus – realized the correctness in Asclepius's action. The long-haired A-Ranker clearly understood how to deal with a patient's relative, who more often than not interfered with the healing process rather than the opposite. She, as a healer, should've understood that, and acted accordingly. For example, to perform her healing Magecraft without the influence of her emotional turmoil.

Once again… _should have_.

However, that very same part merely lambasted her own self, cursing Medea for her own weaknesses. She could've directed the _Argo_ much faster if she was insistent on it and disregarded ethics and politeness. She could've rampaged her way through Atlantis and blast a shortcut right into this very heart of the palace, in the dungeons. She could've done what she should've done when Poseidon arrived, and his smug face was begging to be slogged.

Twice again… _could have_.

She stopped herself from drowning in self-pity by the third second. By now, her peripheral gaze caught the sight of Sir Shirō and Herakles walking past Poseidon like he's a mere insect, unworthy of their attention. From what the former had explained to her briefly on the _Argo_ about Athena's quest, there was certainly a dark force behind the recent outbreak of Olympian-related tragedies, which amplified some deities' worst aspects and letting them ran wild.

It's better to redirect her current negative emotions – rage, despair, hatred, suicidal intent, and so on – to the task at hand.

She had made good progress with understanding the parameters for her newly-repurposed [Pain Breaker]… which she concluded to be _too strong for her_. She, Hecate's prized disciple, Circe's beloved younger sister apprentice and niece, Helios's granddaughter… was practically useless. The harsh numbers needed for the operation far exceeded her own limits, even the most optimistically-projected ones.

If it's only slightly more. If it's only one level more. Then… she wouldn't hesitate to surpass her own limits, even if it incurred irreparable damage to her body.

It was by then she realized something.

That gap… didn't matter.

What did she want right now, more than anything? Was her desire too weak and insignificant she didn't dare to take the risk?

When did she become such a _coward_? One sight of blood and flesh, and she'd cower away?

\- Not.

\- Static!

This time, the rational and pragmatic voice repeated its response from earlier… but the tone was different.

So what if she's not strong enough? So what if the spell was too lethal for her own body?

She'd simply _make her own body strong enough_, right here and now.

To be fair, she was inspired by the surprise Sir Shirō once told her, in a story about himself.

* * *

"_You know, I envy your magical talent."_

_Naturally, his words elicited a fierce blush on her face, both from embarrassment and shock. "T-That's impossible…!"_

"_Having studied Thaumaturgy for so long, do you still think these kinds of things are impossible? At the very least, they're 'merely' improbable, no?" He teasingly smiled, patting her steaming head. "But it's true. I was useless at Magecraft, even now."_

"_B-But the stories I h-heard about you…! What a-about those battles?! Of your storied variety of offensive and defensive avenues?" She questioned rapid-fire-like, her mouth babbling on about the tales she heard about him._

_A gleam of mischief appeared in his golden-brown eyes. "Ah, I didn't realize you paid so close an attention to me, Your Highness."_

_\- Poof!_

_He chuckled and rubbed off the steam emanating from her pointed ears. "Sorry, I went too far there. But those… are simply iterations from the single spell I've mastered. Therefore, only imagination and drive will limit you to progress your own skills further, Medea."_

"_Uuu… y-you bully…" she protested weakly, putting on her hood quickly to cover her crimson cheeks. However, because the cloth was made out of thin violet material, it didn't do her much good. If it's the darker color her adult self often wore, then it might be a better choice. "Please explain."_

"_Your 'talent' – or what the majority of people considered that – is the breath of categories you can train and achieve good mastery in. Well… that's not me," Sir Shirō admitted. "I can do __**one**__ thing, very, very well. That's all. Like I said before, those stories you heard were simply iterations of that ability."_

_He leaned in closer, his warm breath tickling the tip of her pointy ears… and also __**somewhere else**__ in her body, if she was to be honest with herself. "This is also a secret, but I was born with low-quality Magic Circuits as well."_

* * *

Thus, how could a supposedly-hopeless case become an esteemed S-Ranker? By working hard? By currying favors? By gambling and relying on luck?

Well, he admitted to having parts of those three cases in his growth, but he specifically stressed on one thing – a sentence Medea's teacher often preached, but rarely embodied by magi throughout the world.

Being a magus was to walk alongside death. Embracing it like an old friend, instead of shunning it. Respecting it as equals, instead of fearing or aiming to dominate it.

At times, one's life just didn't matter, but not to the extent of outright suicide. No, this frame of mind was to accept death as a possible risk, to take responsibility over their own actions and being determined to see it all the way through.

He simply staked his life. Once, twice, thrice… many, many times over, each time getting stronger and having a greater understanding of himself and the world around him.

And this technique she's about to perform… was a straight rip-off from his stories.

Oh, he never shared the details with her, but it's an act simple enough it could be considered idiotically suicidal. Not the act of premeditative killing of the self, but the act of doing something, knowing it could destroy one's soul, but cheerfully and childishly pushed through to achieve a simple ideal.

The scale of Equivalent Exchange was off. What was given was incomparable to what was received… but that's what exactly opened doors which should be out of reach for him.

And now, she was trying to break open that door. No, she _would_, no matter what.

For a magus of her caliber, a phrase of self-suggestion was unnecessary. She was in tune with the World itself, enabling her to weave Mysteries which not only avoided conflict with it, but also supported by it in turn. That's the essence of the highest level of Magecraft, just shy of True Magic itself, where the consequences of enacting it were far direr.

However, when she saw what had become of her aunt, her mind pictured the muscular, strong back of her idol, just as a benchmark for her hands to futilely grasp, in hope she could draw strength from this image.

\- STATIC!

Then, from it, two words flowed out of her mouth.

"**Trace, on."**

Estimating magic energy amount…  
Biological material, confirmed.  
Estimating processing time…  
Output format, confirmed.  
Estimating magic energy requirement…  
Begin conversion.

The pain…

How should she describe it, really? It was close to the sensation of inserting screaming-hot metal rod into her spine, where the heat then reverberates with intense ferocity throughout the channels in her body to their intended target.

But, compared to the harsh training Hecate had put Medea through, this was nothing.

This version of [Pain Breaker] required so much magical potential – processing capability, raw output, near-instantaneous adaptability, and so on – solely because of the target: Atlantis's core, which was connected to Poseidon's Divinity. It was possible to steal or wrest control of the latter, even through less sophisticated means, as displayed by Poseidon himself when he inherited his Authority from the Protogenoi, Pontus.

Thus, it demanded every single major and minor nerve ending to be converted into Magic Circuits, just to support her inborn ones.

She lost her eyesight and sense of touch.

They didn't matter.

\- Not enough…

\- STATIC! STATIC! STATIC!

Then, she went deeper, into her major arteries and bone marrow. Those areas were rich with magical potential – surely, she could use them?

"Gggrrhhhh…"

Blood gurgled out of her mouth in copious amount, followed by dark chunks of… organic material, splattering on Atlantis's exquisite floor. The sight shocked Asclepius, but as he couldn't spare any extra concentration to treat Medea, he could only watch this act of practical self-mutilation in silence.

But, compared to what Circe had to endure – because all the older magus wanted was to help Medea – this was nothing.

Her vocal cord shredded itself, along with the rest of her nasal cavity, wrecking her lungs in the process. Her hearing was gone, so she noted with a shockingly impassioned internal voice how loud her heart was beating and straining itself, bulging into unnatural shapes, echoing like thunderstorms in her head.

\- Not enough…

\- STATIC! STATIC! STATIC!

She could feel the extra capacity opening up, as the 'Spiritron Hack' step was complete. [Pain Breaker] was ready to launch, only waiting for her to put the finishing touches and supply the proper amount of magic energy.

However, even that was not enough.

'_Of course,'_ she dryly noted to herself. _'Then… take more.'_

* * *

From the deepest depths in the ocean, Pontus awakened from his slumber.

Far from his homeland, he had been cast here when his generation, the Protogenoi, was usurped by the Titans – particularly Okeanos, his successor. It was to his ironic laughter the latter was superseded by the current rulers, the Olympians, but by then he had long stopped caring about the mortal world.

Living like a hermit, this lifestyle enabled him to evade condemnation which befell the Titans from the Olympians. His Authority, the [Sea], had been unused for so long, it was simply the thought of it being finally dusted off the shelf by Poseidon which allowed the latter to usurp this Authority.

But now…

'_A mortal desired my power?'_

He chuckled in pity. Too bad, then. Even if he deigned to help this female – which he just did, because the way Poseidon had abused this Authority was outright _filthy_ – it was impossible. A mortal must sacrifice too much, too soon, to properly harness this ability. No one had the steeliness in them to actually perform the deed.

'…_those mortals surprise me once again, like always.'_

Just as he thought of that, he felt the determination held inside the female's tiny frame.

This was what the deities had always been missing. Because of the mortals' limitations, they strived and slaved and worked and pushed to push beyond, instead of the satisfied atmosphere at the top of Mount Olympus. Because they had a target to chase – an almost literal insurmountable mountain – their eyes lit up with ambition and drive, hungry and thirsty to reach, equal and surpass their creators, just like how the Olympians were against the Titans, and the Titans against the Protogenoi.

'_Interesting…'_

However, the sense of pity he felt for this female never disappeared, even if he sent her his blessings.

* * *

'_TAKE EVERYTHING!'_

Her soul screamed to the World… and it acknowledged her.

\- STATIC! STATIC! STATIC! STATIC! STATIC! STATIC! STATIC!

The first impact was… grand.

There was no other word to describe it. It was truly a _euphoric_ sensation, the sense of having _power_ at the tips of her fingers, opening up probabilities she'd ever thought of but couldn't achieve. The elation of being simply _higher_ than anyone else, being no longer mortal, but now…

_Divine_.

The torturous pain she experienced in the past several seconds – though it felt like centuries to her superclocked mind – wasn't even noticeable anymore, even as her body was still breaking down at frightening speed.

Her vision returned… No. it's as if… she's not the one seeing her environment, but the _ocean itself_ was helping her see. As Atlantis was underwater, it granted her a 360° view of everything happening in it.

'_So Poseidon and __**that thing**__ were deliberately waiting for us…'_

There's no other way of explaining their tardiness, as Medea's group blasted through Atlantis heavy, but manageable defenses. With this ability, Poseidon should've been able to direct more suitable troops and activate more appropriate traps against them without even resorting to leaving his throne room. Also, ambushing them himself – or with the assistance of _that thing_ – should be easy, blindsiding them with untold levels of power.

However, right now, as she clenched and unclenched her fist, she grinned maniacally at the man who had tormented her beloved Circe.

Her violet eyes – now dull and dead, much different from their vibrancy and youth earlier – focused its empty gaze on the muscular man.

With but a thought, the ocean around them rumbled, before bursting forth from the gaps in the walls around them to assault their former master.

* * *

"He looks like shit," Herakles tries to joke… and it works for me, because Ars Goetia is visibly annoyed.

How I can tell so despite the other party literally _not having any proper face_ is doubtful even to me, but I gain a sense of satisfaction from that. I bump my fist to the taller man's side, complimenting, "Spot on. I agree. While his sister's façade was better-looking, I don't think even you'll bed her if you know what they're all made of, to be honest."

In a classic encounter, the two of us are in the middle of Atlantis's wider-than-necessary throne room. As always, the opulence in these kinds of places borders on disgusting, though it appears Poseidon does have some dependable people who manage to keep it just before that boundary. Marbles carved from northernmost cliffs are the norm, with silver, sapphire, and gold lining the gaps in-between the large white blocks. Some of them are even intentionally irregularly cut and pieced together in a natural puzzle, just to satisfy the deity's lust for intricate arts.

Streams of unnaturally blue waterfalls circle the entire back half of the chamber, emanating what can only be described as natural music, despite their strange placement and existence. Coral backs up the marble creations, blending in the natural and the artificial. Motes of bioluminescent creatures bathe the surroundings with ethereal light, purposefully hypnotic in their combination to give an advantage to whoever was the master of this room.

Of course, Goetia's ugly face is the fly in the ointment in this carefully-curated scenery.

'He' sat on the throne, bony cheek resting on one fist, as if he owned this place. Which, if one thinks about it hard enough, isn't really wrong.

However, there's a significant difference between this being and the information I received from Alaya in the past. Namely, 'his' Conceptual Weight is outright disappointing. It's understandable – and will be illogical if it's the other way around – because this is the early form of Ars Goetia before it has the chance to receive Solomon's Magecraft and Divinity. As much as being directly descended from Pandora and being 'older' automatically grants 'him' strength, 'he' lacks the condensation of experience the latter has when 'he' decides to destroy the world millennia later.

To put it simply… this one's just as much of a small fry as 'his' 'sister'.

Is this one properly male or female? Well, judging from Goetia's tone of voice, it's clear Pandora created this tome to be male, so I'll address it as such.

"You sure are courageous in leaving your comrades behind like that," Goetia speaks, not bothering even to move his bony jaw or open his rows of teeth. "You have left them to di-"

His speech is cut off when Herakles's fist arrives at his face, smashing it along with the throne into smithereens. "You talk too much."

Indeed, it's at such a speed even I have trouble following the attack just now with my normal eyes, much less this tome who lacks proper battle experience.

This is why I'm confident in facing the five siblings, having established my baseline data during my massacre of Ars Notoria. Their creator, Pandora, may be a Heroic Vessel, but with the differing degrees of completion before we all go independent – for better or worse – she lacks battle experience. Oh, sure, spending centuries locked up in a secure location leaves plenty of time for one to think a grand, intricate plan, but it's no use if it can't survive first contact with the enemy and leave it unable to adapt flexibly.

She's still dangerous, however, precisely because of the lack of information I have regarding her limit of power, and how well she can utilize them if she is ever freed from her restrains. But now, with only her 'children' running her errands, there's very little to fear.

Especially with an S-Ranker by my side, who has already launched dozens of bare-handed strikes and kicks in the time it takes me to think of all of this.

"Y-You… GAH! D-Dare… G-GUH! ARRGGGHHHH!" Goetia tries to speak, but is constantly interrupted by the never-ending barrage of blows, leaving him no time to even react properly.

Despite the strenuous onslaught, Herakles is barely winded. "There are very little things I don't dare do. Against someone like you? Why should I wait?"

An uppercut, followed by an upwards heel kick. A backhand, followed by a reverse-roundhouse flying scissor kick. A head-butt, then a knee strike. A vicious hook, then a side-palm chop.

All of Pankration's essence is displayed in the highest level of mastery available.

However, soon, Herakles jumps back beside me.

"What's this guy made out of? My strikes… hurt him, yes, but they don't do much more than that."

For someone who's used to killing his foes with one strike, it's indeed jarring that amount of physical and heavy Conceptual Weight strikes doesn't do anything which can't be instantly regenerated later.

"Haa… Haa… You sure are one obnoxious pest!"

\- Whooosshhh!

Without any discernible action, the water flowing around us transform into black-red fluid trunks, which proceed to hurl themselves at us at breakneck speed.

Both of us easily dodge, and dodge the follow-up strikes, and dodge the follow-up strikes after that, nimbly jumping back-and-forth across the three-dimensional plane using their main bodies at footholds. Even while doing this, we casually converse with each other.

"How do you want to tackle this?" I suggest, "Support or main?"

"Main, of course!" Herakles boisterously laughs, plunging his hand into his Spatial Bag. "Just take care of these small fries for me!"

I oblige, letting him run the show.

To be frank, if only the Einzberns doesn't summon Herakles as a Berserker in Fuyuki's Fifth Holy Grail War, they will win easily.

Because the man in front of me can only be described with the moniker 'King of Warriors'.

Barehanded combat. Swordsmanship. Archery. Mounted duels. Spearmanship. And so on, and so on.

This guy can literally do anything bar cast proper Magecraft… reminding me of my own self.

When not bound by the Class System of the Holy Grail War, Herakles can – and is doing – curb-stomp most enemies, including one of Pandora's tomes. I have to admit, while it's not sophisticated, his battle style has its own beauty in its simplicity.

Goetia tries to counterattack by forming a blackened bone lance, aimed straight at Herakles's open torso as he lunges in for an uppercut. However, it meets the Neméos Léōn's hide and bounces clean off. This automatically grants the demigod a parry, which he quickly takes advantage of and follows up with a kick straight to the groin, enhanced with Kerberos's hellfire, blasting the tome into pieces.

Before Goetia can regenerate fully, the Magecraft he received from the Kerynitis Elaphos activates – by virtue of a Mystic Code crafted from its remains – speeding up his already-ridiculous speed and enabling him to strike each and every single one of Goetia's flying body parts with vengeance, once again coating his limbs with Kerberos's hellfire, operated in a similar manner to a Mystic Code.

Though the latter is more of a curse than a blessing, really, but a hero has to be able to work with both, right?

The farthest pieces are picked clean off the air from several throwing knives made of the hardened and tempered metallic keratin of the Stymphalídes Ornithes – which are one of my favorite projects, really. It's good fun seeing the astonishment in his face when a potential rival – as I was fresh from my S-Rank exam – gifted him such a precious set of weaponry.

It's a good chance to say hello to Megara and the kids, too, so it's a good experience for me in creating future Mystic Codes and Noble Phantasms from scratch imagination and raw materials.

At this distance and pace, Herakles can't really make full use of his archery skills. The poisoned tip of his Lernaîa Hýdra arrows are still stored inside the Spatial Bag – we're not even sure it can affect this aberration of a living thing, after all, so there's little sense to waste it – but there's nothing stopping him from using his bow as a club. Twin clubs, to be exact, as his large, ballista-sized bow is usually disassembled into two pieces for ease of carrying. This job usually falls into the veteran's assistant, so it's more for their convenience's sake than Herakles's, who can clearly and easily carry it fully assembled without problems.

Goetia's reformed torso, where the large red crystal is kept encased, receives a full home-run smash from one of the bow pieces, before Herakles put them back into the Spatial Bag in favor of another Mystic Code: the accursed Erymánthios Kápros, famed to bring misfortune to whoever desired this unnaturally-attractive wild boar.

Completely unlike Atalanta's future prey, this boar is by all means normal in size and shape. Its problem is its closeness to the Sisters of Fate, shielding it from all forms of normal recognition and clairvoyance. Those who are able to see its form, however, are usually enthralled by the curse of [Hunger], an offshoot of the primordial [Gluttony], before they start desiring it until their own destruction.

As a matter of fact, that's just the Sisters of Fate's protection cast upon it. Its true nature, which makes it close to the trio, is its ability to burn and cut and rot and ruin an individual's fate strings, casting unending misfortune into its aggressors. If not for my intervention, then Chiron really will be infected by Hýdra's poison during Herakles's quest to attain this boar, damning him into Zeus's mercy.

That's not my style, obviously.

Crossing my arms leisurely while standing exactly where I've been since the start, as my blades whiz around and obliterate anything which threatens my or Herakles's position, I carefully study Goetia's pattern, as well as his physical make up. My Pure Eyes are very useful in this regard, though the tome's surprisingly high Conceptual Weight makes the process rather tardy. In the meantime, I really should let Herakles cut loose, so he won't blow up later on his own.

There's no rush. I believe in my wife and the rest.

* * *

Before Atalanta could do anything, Medusa had already launched herself forwards the instant Shirō and Herakles exited the room to go against Poseidon's other collaborator.

When she realized what had happened, though, she tightened her grip around her bow and silently followed behind Medusa, ready to back her up. There's no sense in shouting for her to stop, considering the murderous intent the younger girl had been oozing out for a while now, so the best thing she should do was to make sure Medusa didn't die.

If she did, then Atalanta would lose the highest-quality sleep pillow she'd ever had, so she had no desire to see that nightmare fulfilled.

Medusa only needed to take two steps to reach striking distance against Poseidon, whose eyes were still locked onto _someone_ behind her, such was her speed and weapon range. Despite her short stature, not even fully to Atalanta's height yet, the chained spikes had splayed themselves around her akin to live snakes, shooting forwards towards the sea deity, while Harpe clung onto her back. Golden scales appeared around her forearms and neck, glinting brightly even under the smooth bioluminescence of the underwater creatures.

However, despite this painting a deadly picture, it wouldn't be enough against an Olympian. From the time she spent with Artemis and Apollo, Atalanta understood that much.

What Medusa was lacking… was a mature enough [Divinity], a function of Conceptual Weight and Divine Blessings, to be on par with this wretched man in front of her. When she spoke of her dreams to Shirō and Atalanta, they came to the conclusion her Gorgon powers were starting to mature… but certainly not now. It's already a great achievement she's able to move that well considering her sudden growth spurt, which completely threw off her previously-trained sense of balance and distance.

"**Trace, on."**

Two words were whispered into the air, yet Atalanta's and Medusa's keen senses easily picked it up.

Poseidon raged in front of them. "YOU DARE-"

But Atalanta had already overtaken Medusa's sprint, stopping right behind the bewildered deity. "Yes, we do. **Phoebus Catastrophe**."

The point-blank arrow shot, steeped in the Authorities of Artemis _and_ Apollo – instead of either one of them – immediately removed all flesh from Poseidon's bones with its blast.

Before he could yell out further profanities, his neck was sliced into with Harpe, after Medusa's spikes pinned his other limbs to the floor and walls and ceilings, silencing his words. The younger girl landed with her eyes wide open and a red ancient letter shining brightly on her forehead… almost as bright as Cybele's jewel-like prismatic light in full flow.

The reason they managed to land such clean hits on the battle-hardened deity was three-fold.

First of all, Poseidon's Divinity… was _gone_.

Atalanta and Medusa weren't sure on the specifics, but they're sure Medea had something to do with it. There's no time to reassess things, because openings were far and few in between, thus they had to take advantage of the momentary power-down. Hopefully, it's semi-permanent, but they couldn't slack on their laurels in that hope.

The young magus had given them an opportunity, so they took it.

Secondly, Medusa didn't even think her Mystic Eyes were going to work. Though powerful, they were, after all, just Jewel-ranked. It'd take more than that to completely overwhelm a deity's Conceptual Weight, much less their parameters. However, by a stroke of luck, her timing was spot-on with Medea's effort, freezing the now-depowered god in his place.

Or should she address him as a mortal, from now on? A deity without their Divinity or Divine Graph was nothing different than those useless meat bags they loved to screw around with, after all.

Thirdly… well, Atalanta was simply too fast. Even if her sprint too her slightly further away than ideal, Tauropolos's draw speed was such it's pretty much a point-blank attack from _anywhere in the room_, much less when amplified by her natural speed. It's apparent from the way she overtook the hasty Medusa into Poseidon's striking range, without him being able to react in her conquest of his rear space.

The charred corpse in front of her… was healing rapidly back into place.

Atalanta immediately jumped clear, giving way to Medusa's full-powered axe kick downwards, smashing the body into pieces.

They couldn't stop. Not now.

Even if Poseidon had been bereft of his powers – as even his beloved trident laid inactive – he still didn't die. No… _couldn't_ die from their attacks. Therefore, if one attack wouldn't finish him off, they'd continue to strike. Again and again and again.

Jets of water smashed into Poseidon's destroyed body – still frozen by Cybele – and speared the blasted-off pieces into crumbs. If one could look close enough, they appeared to take the form of thin dragons, but those who did would likely die anyway.

From her peripheral vision, Atalanta could see Medea… and her condition wasn't good.

However, she couldn't afford to waste any more focus than this. Several of Poseidon's trusted generals had arrived, wearing incredibly high-ranked Mystic Codes all over their body, and were engaging the rest of the party in combat. Encircling the prone Asclepius and Circe, they aimed to take the two hostage, and Medea's focus on controlling the Divinity she's stolen made her unable to properly assist them.

To be frank, according to her experienced mind, this hunt still wasn't favorable to them. If so, then they would've found some way to mitigate Poseidon's regenerative capability and finished this sooner.

Several ideas came up in parallel across all three women's minds.

One was a new ability unrelated to his Divinity, granted from his cooperation with this collaborator Shirō and Herakles were facing. The other, more concerning possibility was Medea's failure to completely eradicate him of his control over Divinity, which might also imply Poseidon was able to control his own bodily fluids and cells, as they're liquid.

"Keep it up!" Atalanta commanded, both towards Medusa and Medea, along with the party's resistance towards Poseidon's reinforcements.

\- BAM!

"**_▄▄▄▄▄▄▄██████████████████████!"**

Medusa didn't need any further warnings as she pulled herself back using her chains, as a monstrous, scaly arm smashed down repeatedly towards the reforming body of the god.

'_Scylla?!'_ The young girl silently complimented Medea for her control over this tricky-to-handle monster, famous throughout the ocean for its brutality and wildness.

No, that wasn't an arm… _'I-Is that a tentacle? I didn't know they have so many… __**teeth**__…__'_

However, she re-focused quickly, maintaining her perception of the god's body to keep Cybele's power locked onto this _murderer_.

A tingling wave travelled over her spine, and not a kind one.

She still remembered her time with Stheno and Euryale, gifted to her by Persephone. This man in front of her… took that all away from her. The sensation of their touch, the beauty of their smiles, the warmth in their voices…

Their lives. Their _future_.

The red marking on her forehead hummed dangerously, a sensation similar to when her 'mother' was scolding her. However, she didn't pay it any mind.

The source of all her misfortune was here, right in front of her. Why should she back off? Because his gaze wished to rape and violate her earlier? Because Shirō was here and could bail her out whenever she got into trouble? Because the _Argo_ crew was nearby, and she must keep Poseidon busy so he couldn't harm them?

No. She simply wanted his head. His life, right here in her palm… to snuff it out.

It's her responsibility, right, and desire to do so – that's why she was given her Divinity in the first place.

A Divine Graph wasn't created, or earned, or falsified… but _granted_ by the World. Naturally, humanity had its hand in it, but the main base of it was from the former. The wish of the related Ultimate One, molded alongside the prayers and adoration of the masses – both with incredible Conceptual Weight – would transform a relatively unremarkable individual into a minor deity.

Her birth process was slightly different, but the basic of it was the same.

Her sisters were more divine than her, often claiming the attribute to be a bother. She didn't really understand what they're saying back then… and now, she didn't care to understand. She just wished they were here, able to guide her to process both parts in her – [Divine] and [Monster].

And this man took _everything_ away from her.

"▄▄▄▄▄▄██████████████**!"**

She roared, having not done so over the previous several seconds – the duration of time spent since she first started their salvo. Her perception of the world around her was increased to the maximum, and she's sure her other partners were the same as well, making time felt it's been stretched for hours, when only moments had passed.

She swung her fists and legs freely, her chain-spikes rampaging around with the same ferocity as Scylla's tentacles, but _much_ faster due to their size and weight.

To damage someone with an originally high rank of Divinity, no matter how currently depleted, one needed an equal or greater amount of the same thing. Right now, Medusa was the only one who's passable, as both Atalanta's and Medea's use of another deity's Authority would weaken their attacks somewhat.

Case in point: ever since the start of the battle, she's the only one who made direct and constant physical contact with Poseidon's body. The other two women stayed at medium- to long-range, supporting her, because direct contact with any deity without the proper Conceptual Weight would only bring irreversible harm. There were many fatally cursed heroes and adventurers to attest to this, either caused by their own hubris or the deities' whims.

Atalanta was the most experienced and skilled among them. Even Medusa, with her otherworldly agility and flexibility, often failed to keep track of her with her perception. She guessed even if she pointed Cybele at the cat-eared woman, its effects would soon wear off because of Atalanta's speed being so overwhelming, able to exit Medusa's perception range at will. Her bow, Tauropolos, kept on shooting without pause – tree trunk-sized starlight continuously blasting off any pieces of meat trying to reform themselves into Poseidon, while also bouncing off every tangible surface with extreme precision.

Medea held the greatest firepower and knowledge among them, having taken control of Atlantis itself. Other than Scylla, she expertly manipulated the seawater around them into high-pressure hammers and blades, cleaning up the debris Atalanta's arrows couldn't catch completely. Ice, water vapor, mist… every single permutation Medusa could think of, coming out of seawater, was used to a masterful degree. Medea wielded her long staff – now sporting a trident made of crystalized water at its tip – as if she's dancing in a beautiful ritual to the World.

But neither could touch Poseidon on their own.

\- Creak… Creak… Creak…

Her bones hurt. Her muscles burn. Her eyes tortured.

Golden scales began to overwhelm her original smooth skin – one of the things Poseidon lecherously desired – going on to cover her torso and hips underneath her long black robe. They felt numb and stiff, though the good kind – like how one felt immobilized when submerging themselves in a steaming lava-hot bath.

\- Let's go…

There's this voice inside her who's been speaking non-stop at her.

It's undoubtedly female, but Medusa couldn't think of a reason why it felt so… beyond familiar, really. As if it's her own… but not hers…

_Not human_, either.

\- Rampage.

The more the golden scales encroach through her body, the louder and clearer it was. Whenever it spoke, the same comforting sensation flowed through her body, just like the scales, and mirroring the warmth she adored when being inside Athena's embrace, the pleasure she craved from Shirō's and Atalanta's mouths and blood, the numbing climax she enslaved herself into whenever she was loved and caressed tenderly…

\- Drip.

There was a dripping sound – 'splosh' – coming from her eyes, but she paid it no mind. It didn't impact Cybele's performance, so why should she? She had bigger things to try and worry about… for example, the sudden streak of white lightning charging at her from one of the clumps of bone and nerves flying about.

'_As I expected… his Divinity's not all gone…!'_

Poseidon's strongest territory and Authority was the [Sea], yes, but he's not one-dimensionally worshipped as such. [Storm]. [Earthquake]. [Horses]. Three Authorities interlinked with other deities, such as Zeus, Demeter, and Artemis… which was perhaps the main reason Medea couldn't completely drain this immoral bastard dry of his Divinity.

'Spiritron Hack' was all and good if it worked… but its problem was it worked only for _one thing_, and not another.

Of course, this exposition wasn't going through Medusa's mind, since she's the one most unfamiliar with the intricacies of Magecraft among everyone present, including the lesser-ranked party members of the _Argo_, who seemed to be finishing up their battles.

She swerved her body, throwing away one of her chain links to act as a lightning rod and attracted the mythical strikes away from her, before launching forwards once again and hacking at the battered corpse with Harpe. She could sense he's weakening – all the damage and regeneration done were clearly slowing him down, with the latest series of lightning, air cannon, and so on looking more like desperate measures, rather than measured counterattacks.

\- KILL!

The image of a one-eyed, golden draconic serpent flashed in her mind. Its maw was even more monstrous than the abomination that was Scylla, and its menacing glare shone in a murderous crimson glow.

"████████████████████████████████████**!"**

She no longer knew what noise she's emitting from her throat. All Medusa could feel was how tightly her body contorted, storing energy like a spring, before maniacally shooting forward like a bullet.

Gazes were focused on her form, most likely from Atalanta and the other party members, but she couldn't even feel them now. Her entire senses were completely devoted into Pose-

"Took you long enough."

\- Splat.

"E-Eh…?" Medusa's hoarse voice escaped her throat… as her body was pancaked straight into the marble floor by an intense column of seawater.

"Kyah!"

She could hear Atalanta being blasted off her perch, before a blur crossed in front of Cybele and caught the Arcadian princess by the waist. The latter tried to fight it off, launching a point-blank right straight at Poseidon's face, but he circled his forearm around the counterattack, and with a nasty grin, broke it like a twig.

Medusa winced, not because of the pain she's experiencing, but due to the sight of Atalanta's arm bones jutting out like a polar iceberg – which Medusa saw once approaching Sarpedon when she was very young.

However, Atalanta didn't scream, and immediately stabbed the jutting bone into the unsuspecting Poseidon, whose hands had already moved to enjoy her privates, thinking her resistance was broken by the extreme pain of having one's limbs broken off. It went in smoothly into his neck, the shock of the act serving more towards him releasing her rather than the pain.

He threw her away, where she landed near Medusa's prone form, who's already recovering from the extreme weight by releasing her innate magic energy in a large explosive burst.

"Unfortunately for you, I have faced worst men than you, accursed god," Atalanta mocked, before wincing at oxidation occurring at the tips of her injury. "Your kind have no right to touch my body."

Instead of feeling insulted, however, both young women could see a puzzling expression on his face: that of a maniacal thirst not just for sex, incited by lust… but simply greed. Or, rather, [Greed]. Poseidon's eyes were locked onto their frail form just like before, yes, but there's more layers to the perverted stare now: of hunger, of innate desire of everything carnal.

"So… that's how _that thing_ controlled him?" Medusa whispered. "No, not controlled… _incited_ his desires into action?"

Atalanta weakly nodded. "'Tis likely. However, we must regroup quickly."

Because Poseidon's Divinity had clearly returned. Which meant…

Though they weren't eager to shift their gazes away from their opponent in the middle of combat, they had to.

Lightly twisting their necks, they could see Medea… lying on the floor, face-down, with copious amount of bodily fluids flowing from every orifice. Blood – both red and black – as well as the greenish-brown sting of stomach acid, various glands… And her skin was drying up rapidly, being mummified by the second.

"Taste the divine punishment from stealing my Divinity, foolish mortal," Poseidon smugly spat out, walking slowly towards them with the might of Atlantis's entirety in tow.

\- GO-GO-GO-GO-GO-GO-GO-GO-GO-GO-GO-GO-GO-GO-GO…

From behind the two women, they could hear Ancaeus gulp nervously, shifting his position to group up with the twins and the rest of the crew. They all circled Asclepius, the prone Circe and Medea – the former still had his utmost focus in restoring the tortured woman's life – but they knew this action would ultimately end up futile.

After all, with tsunami hundreds of feet high following Poseidon's every step behind him, what could they do?

\- Static.

However, just as suddenly their situation turned around… Poseidon _stopped_.

No, that's not exactly correct. The more experienced adventurers could see that's not the movement of someone who willingly halted their steps.

No. He was stopped by another reason. Or, rather… _another person_.

His insane expression contorted, washing off into a combination of cold pragmatism as well as… _fear_?

"What… are you doing here…?" He growled out, his powers brimming almost out of control, ready to strike as soon as the other party responded.

Atalanta, Medusa, and the rest knew he's not speaking to them, so who…

They turned around, to see a white-clad petite figure standing over the dying bodies of Circe and Medea, khakkhara at the ready.

"ANSWER ME, HECATE!"


	23. Good & Bad (II)

**Greetings. Feels great to bring you all the continuation (and hopefully climax) of the battle in the previous chapter! Enjoy this one.**

**Not going to say too much, apart from announcing some new beta project: Asgardians in a New World by kokosoko (Overlord) and the continuation of The Red Dragon's Saber by Captain Bell (DXD). Check them out, since I worked hard with them to create the best product for you guys!**

**Short mailbag time!  
****Trasgo Madaraz Artifex: I would dearly love to answer all of your questions... if I haven't written most of them into the next chapter. Just patiently wait for the explanations by then! Stew and suffer! Hahahaha!  
Stratos263: ****Oh, he's been in trouble for a long time...  
Eddain: ****That's intentional. But that's the point of this series: It's not what Shirou's doing, but how the others change around him.  
MrAracn: ****Most of your questions will be answered in Ch. 22 & 23! The former is out now; check it out! I'm happy to hear from you again after so long, BTW.**

**Warning: Hefty Glossary Update at the bottom of the chapter! Unexplained terms will be continued in next chapter's Glossary Update.  
**

* * *

"ENOUGH!" Goetia roared, his vocal cord having momentarily grown together for long enough to give him time to speak. "You shall not stand in my way!"

That is, until Herakles blasted him once again into pieces, this time using one of his regular arrows the size of a normal war lance. The constant onslaught may look boring, but it's anything but to the two of us. We as S-Rankers have experienced enough battles where continuous attacks are necessary just to overcome our opponents' regenerative abilities.

It's not as simple as using an item with Anti-Healing attributes, though of course Unlimited Blade Works give me the leisure of choice. Other adventurers, including Herakles, need to tackle this issue another way – and for a physical specimen like him, this manner is the most optimal.

That's how he fought the Lernaîa Hýdra… until he figured out his signature killer technique later on the battle.

However, it seems Goetia still has another trick up its sleeve.

The black-red organisms – which resemble tree trunk-sized tentacle amoeba – suddenly stop attacking me, rushing back towards their creator.

Well, all this time, they're not doing a particularly good job in holding me up, anyway. Because the myriad of weapons inside Unlimited Blade Works have attributes which directly counter these Demon-based creatures, I use them like a factory line and machine gun combined, wantonly flinging them around and controlling their flight path to follow the most optimal lines, and take out the most number of opponents possible in one move.

My Pure Eyes are overkill, really. They're having enough difficulty in dealing with the automated flight path of my blades, much less when my gaze can see through their intentions and structure as clearly as if seeing through the highest-quality glass from the future. The only negative thing it can exploit is the fact my Pure Eyes don't go 360°, but I have my nose to cover the other blind spots.

Therefore, other than Herakles's Mystic Codes and spellcasting, he's also been using the weapons I conjured – most of them gigantic and suitable for his size – to smash up Goetia into finer bits.

It's reminiscent of cooking, really – particularly the act of grinding things like buckwheat into flour, or roughly smashing up spices to release their flavors. No one is interested in what aroma Goetia's body is releasing constantly due to the unending pounding, of course, but the comparison is quite apt, if I may say so myself. Or is it more like squashing garlic?

Mjölnir. Ig-Alima. Sul-sagana. Various other divine weapons, larger than life itself, find themselves in Herakles's hands as he's swinging. At times, they flew into his hands as soon as his momentum carries him too wide. At times, they drop nearby, enabling him to follow-up straight into Goetia's scattered remains. At times, they strike the tome directly, before bouncing off and settling into his arms once again.

I'll certainly receive a thorough interrogation later from him, since he doesn't like things he doesn't understand. His ordeals in life has taught him that much, at least, so I don't have to pound things into his skull forcibly again and again… like times long past, since the time of our first duel.

Since then, to be honest, he's never particularly fond of me. I know a hero's work is never appreciated, but at the very least, shouldn't he give me more gratitude in changing how he's lived his life without much intervention from Hera? It's _my ass_ laid on the line in front of her, not his, unlike his historical counterpart.

Well, such is the life of a socialite… in a society of violence, carnal desires, and divine whims, that is.

Herakles suddenly jumps back during my own self-introspection, reporting roughly, "He's powering up. Explain to me what he's doing."

I shrug at the rude tone. This is how he usually works in the field, anyway. "Concentrating the power he's been using to distract me into one, exponentially increasing his Conceptual Weight as an individual." Gazing at the monstrous creature growing by the second in front of me, I add, "It works differently for different individuals, and I assume this is his preferred method."

There are techniques which prioritizes parallel processing and spatial awareness mastery, such as my Unlimited Blade Works or Gilgamesh's Gate of Babylon. This means quantity over quality, though the difference between the two needn't be large. Splitting one's consciousness over several bodies, either doppelgangers or inanimate objects, can both be incredibly effective in battle… or simply suicidal.

It appears Goetia is the latter, as splitting his essence into so many parts – no matter how independent they are – will inevitably weaken his Conceptual Weight, instead of myself, whose entire being is dedicated to this one technique.

His rate of regeneration just ramps up… no, it's more akin to [Event Reversal], such is the speed and instantaneous realization of that act.

His skeletal body – both the white and the golden parts in his extremities – shrinks at an alarming rate, almost to the size of a normal, albeit tall, human… before exploding in every single direction into a forest of black tree trunks, lined with red leylines and laced with crimson fog. Unlike the organisms attacking me before, they seem a lot more solid, instead of having a plastic, fluid surface and hardened core.

"That's a lot," Herakles comments, before grinning. "Do you think you can keep up with me?"

"Isn't that supposed to be my line?" I tease back, summoning forth an identical ballista-sized bow from Unlimited Blade Works in front of me. "Don't slow me down!"

Unlike him, whose tall stature means he's able to get a good leverage on both the string and the central portion to draw, my body is a mismatch with the bow itself. Therefore, I have to use a different stance than him.

I don't worry about it, though. This technique is very adaptable to all circumstances.

I place one of my soles onto the bow's central portion, using the other to anchor myself to the ground. From there, I stretch both arms backwards – one holding the boat anchor-thick string, the other forming a hyper-compressed magical arrow – and use my entire body's weight and strength to draw it to the maximum.

Herakles, meanwhile, has taken a traditional stance.

Without counting down or precisely synchronizing with each other, we just happen to activate this technique at the same time, shoulder-to-shoulder, back-to-back.

**Nine Lives  
**_~ Shooting Hundred Heads ~_

In an instant, the being called Ars Goetia is no more.

* * *

"ANSWER ME, HECATE!"

How could she bypass all his detection points?

Even when Poseidon was constantly battered left and right, without rest, for several dozen seconds earlier – yes, the time was that short – he could still feel everything going on around him. That cute mortal magus might've stolen his Divinity, but only the [Sea], and not the rest.

A neat trick, one he'd never seen before. For someone that smart and ingenious, he had little doubt her snatch would be nice and tight as well. Those types tend to scream the sweetest when he tore through their virginities forcefully.

The despair apparent on her face when her body failed, and his stolen Divinity returned, was especially enchanting.

His desire had been growing uncontrollably lately, but he didn't mind at all. It felt like a weight was taken off his shoulders, being forced to live and act as the 'supreme deity' Zeus used to preach to him and his brethren after the _Titanomakhia_. That hypocrite wished to differentiate the Olympians and Titans, and culture was one of the easiest things to adapt to.

Hah! It's not like his 'older brother' was devoid of his own perverted desires as well!

So why should he hold back? Zeus had changed lately, more in accordance to Poseidon's own thoughts, so in an ironic twist, their newly-made 'friend' actually brought them closer together. Yes, living together to enjoy life's pleasure… as _family_. The word he never thought could apply to their broken and flawed fraternity.

And then the _Argo_ brought him his dream woman.

She was very different since the last time he saw her. Her silky, long violet hair, far too long for her petite body – the embodiment of innocence and luxury. Her jewel-like eyes shone almost literally like their namesake, blessed with the prosperity of an ancient earth goddess. Compared to her sisters, she was minutely growing every single day, giving Poseidon the variety and imperfection he sook in all his women.

The Medusa in front of him had grown shockingly; now, her stature was more fitting for her serpentine hair, braided to near her knees, and able to wield a long scythe as her main weapon. Her stubby limbs elongated into sinuous, seductive shapes, with taut muscles and soft curves developing deliciously. She was akin to the enticing stage of cooked food – when the spices had just hit the heat, when the fat had just starting to render: not yet ready, but sinfully tempting.

The fact she's now under the protection of Hera's champion mattered not. Poseidon's killed many more heroes before Jason, and he would do so many more times after this moment.

However, if this _female _in front of him didn't disappear real, real soon… his future aspirations looked to be on halt, at the very least.

Once again, coming back to how Hecate managed to bypass Atlantis's detection methods.

They were sophisticated enough to give lightning-quick responses – no pun intended as he's also the deity of [Storm] – to enable him to assign intricate defenses against the rapidly-approaching _Argo_. First of all, no vessel should be pushed that hard, and it pained him, being the patron protector of seafarers, to see such intricately designed ship being handled so roughly, just to arrive in Atlantis and beat its systems one second earlier.

Was this dying pink-haired whore so precious to them? If he had known so, then he would've saved the rape until they arrived, just to incite emotional distress among the group. No matter how powerful, if one's heart didn't work together with one's mind, then all would be for naught.

And Poseidon would get his treasures, as always.

What kind of face would Hecate make if that actually happened? Her delicate, doll-like features would surely express very beautiful emotions, indeed, in contrast to her usually cold and callous demeanor. While Poseidon's tastes laid in the constantly inconsistent mortality of humans, he had to admit she herself was an exquisite, near-matchless beauty.

Her petite body was especially eye-catching; the same way Medusa was to him.

That kind of thought was the last thing in his mind right now, to be honest.

Instead of answering his desperate shout, she kept her eyes locked onto the prone form of the two women nearby. He's not sure of her relationship with them, but it seemed deep. It's interesting enough he halted his counterattack with the might of the entire ocean behind him, to smite these fools who dared to even think of harming him, the deity whose territory was second only to Zeus in this world.

Painfully slowly, at least from his eyes, she took off her gigantic, cushion-shaped white hat and gingerly laid it on Circe's upper body, which was still being treated by Asclepius. Then, moments later, she cast off her white robe, blanketing Medea's rapidly-weakening form.

"Taking away a god's Divinity? That's not [Pain Breaker], o' stupid student of mine…" She sighed quietly, before facing forwards once again towards the injured Atalanta and Medusa, as well as the rest of the _Argo_'s crew. Waving her khakkara, she reversed their injuries in an instant.

Quieter than most people in the room could hear, she continued complaining, as if there was no one in the same space as her.

"You should've called that [Rule Breaker]. It's more fitting."

Poseidon had enough. With a wave of his arm, the tsunami came crashing down onto the group with vengeance, far more powerful than the ones he normally used to punish the surface world. It's a combination of a variety of things, really – the fact his Divinity was freshly back after being stolen, the fact they're near the bottom of the ocean with its terrifyingly crushing pressure, and the fact he's simply pissed off and used much more power than usual in a smaller space.

He'd had enough with Hecate ignoring him. Close as they were, being fellow Olympians, he would not stand this slight.

\- Stab.

"Argh… E-Eh?!"

A khakkara had made its way through his body, with its point now stabbing into his Divine Graph, having forcibly being removed from his frame.

A strike from a parallel dimension. That's why he couldn't react.

"You…!" Poseidon groaned with gurgled throat, craning his head backwards to see who it was…

…Hecate was close-by, _far too close_, wearing an unnatural, beatific smile.

His eyes travelled the other way, towards where she should've been earlier, and found out _she's still there_. Just about to be engulfed by the now out-of-control tsunami… yet _that Hecate_ simply spread her arms to her side nonchalantly, still wearing the expressionless mask she always donned.

"**Second Magic – Kaleidoscope."**

His tsunami disappeared, sucked into a glowing prismatic tear in reality, before being transported into the very same khakkara stabbing him, and the concentrated rush of water destroyed his Divine Graph.

Poseidon couldn't even scream before his limp body was thrown to the floor, disbelief apparent in his eyes.

While he's not dead yet, he's now severely – and _permanently_ – weakened. This went beyond what that petite beautiful magus did, which analogously mirror someone stealing an artifact because they couldn't create or destroy it.

Hecate clearly could do both.

He landed near a pair of slim feet… looking straight into Hecate's eyes.

\- Static.

Though, this time, her face was contorted into an expression of manic slaughter and hatred. An unbridled, unchained, and unhinged complicated grin, almost predatory in nature.

"G-Gah… Argh… Uaaa…" He tried to reason, but no words made its way past his destroyed chest.

\- Static! Static! Static!

The _Hecate near him_ tapped one end of her khakkara into the gaping hole where his Divine Graph used to be, shouting into the World with vigor, **"THIRD MAGIC – HEAVEN'S FEEL!"**

\- STATIC!

It was indescribably painful, to have one's soul torn from one's body and mind, floating into Hecate's petite hands. However, so long as Poseidon's consciousness remained in his soul – where the record of his being was written – he still could…

\- Squish.

_This Hecate_ clenched her hand into a fist, extinguishing that particular Divine Graph.

No matter, then; not even that clever magus was able to completely detect and reach out to his other Authorities. Perhaps, with that – as well as his connection to his 'older brother', Zeus, through [Storm] – he could…

* * *

"_Hello, Father."_

His thought froze, as countless images flooded his mind.

No, these weren't mere pictures. These were… genuine souls, interacting with his now-fleeting ones. Various shapes and sizes, voices and gender, races and Conceptual Weight, all swirled around in a maelstrom to consume him in a torrent of souls, much more ferocious than the River Styx.

"_You should die."_

And, most of all, was the identity of every single one of these individuals.

They're all his children and lovers, dead since a long time ago.

Those he wronged, those he let die, those he sinned against – all in done in his name.

In an eternity stretched from one moment, they all fused into him, instigating a destructive chain reaction in a manner designed to completely kill him, once and for all. Was this flow natural? Of course not; but that's what Magic was for, right?

To achieve and enact the impossible, against all odds, to serve one's selfish needs.

And, right now, Hecate _needed_ to kill him. No, not just that – to have him disappear forever, no longer ruling over this world.

\- Step. Step.

Before his consciousness was swallowed up by the torrent of souls, he could glimpse the _other two Hecate_ had moved closer to observe the process. Whether it took up such a tiny space it could fit in her petite hand – any one of them, really – or whether it grew so violent it swallowed up Atlantis, Poseidon couldn't be sure…

* * *

Rather, he's not sure how to even call himself anymore. As a being just on the precipice of non-existence, what should he think about, really? Whether he was a deity, or simply an amalgamation of information data which acted like one? Or was he a Divine Spirit born from the World? Or from humanity?

Was he real? Was he dreaming? Was the dream even real, or was reality itself a dream?

For too many souls had forced themselves into his frame, and no matter how high his Conceptual Weight was as a deity, they came as what seemed like with an infinite number, stuffing themselves full against his meager spherical spiritual core. His outer shell contorted in confusion, as it tried its best to express the myriad of souls it now contained… before it destroyed itself in futility, violently rejecting the attempted fusion.

Intentional or not, that was the result.

A sentence was spoken, but he no longer recognized the voice.

* * *

"**First Magic – World Break."**

In front of the _Argo_'s crew, _the smiling Hecate_ clasped both hands on her staff, and purposefully stabbed its butt onto the ground.

A blinding chaotic light – made of [Chaos] Element, instead of [Light]'s æther – forced them to shield their eyes…

…before their feet touched solid wood, in a fully-restored _Argo_, sailing peacefully across the ocean once again.

Asclepius felt a slim, but strong hand clasping his shoulder, which revealed itself to be Hecate's.

One of them, at least. Or did she merge back together already?

"I shall take over. Move."

"As you wish, milady."

The long-haired healer respectfully took some distance away, but not dispelling his Bounded Field. His instincts as a doctor told him not to do so, and if it interfered with Hecate's attempt to do the same, then he trusted her to be skilled enough to do so in a manner which wouldn't endanger Circe's life.

Who was he to argue against a person who single-handedly destroyed Atlantis with _one spell_?

So, rather than fret too much about having his patient stolen, he retreated back towards the bewildered group. Their reaction was understandable, considering they're fighting with their lives on the line just several minutes prior.

The sudden change of mood and loss of tension were very confusing, even for the nonchalant characters like himself or Atalanta, who's already munching on some pre-prepared snacks she snuck out of the pantry some time ago.

'_She sure is the fastest mortal…'_

Their injuries, apart from Circe and Medusa, had already been healed in an instant by Hecate earlier. A few more seconds later, the situation finally dawned upon them, and their knees buckled with relief.

Asclepius chose to position himself close to Medusa, who was still turning her head left and right, trying to find something. Whether it's the man she loved – not that she's mature enough to realize that emotion – or the man she hated, he's not sure, so he placed himself to answer her question, which undoubtedly would be _a lot_.

"W-What's just happened? Where's Shirō?! I-Is he…"

He patted and ruffled her head rather forcefully, a gesture which would've suited her smaller body but now looked rather awkward. "Calm down. Do you think a man like him will die after something like that? Besides, he has Herakles with him, too."

Only this man addressed the two S-Rankers – heck, even his own teacher, who's an S-Ranker himself – without any honorifics and with more casual tone. It's not indicative of their closeness, far from it; it's simply Asclepius's mannerism and how he viewed most normal people as future patients, instead of someone to revere.

There's always something wrong with everyone's bodes. His task was to diagnose, treat, and heal them completely, before taking precautionary steps to prevent any outbreak happening again in the future. No matter what it took, no matter who stood in his way. That's his way of life.

However, answering questions for a scared little girl about a foreign situation didn't run counter to that, so he obliged further.

But before he could say anything, all of them could hear Hecate muttered, "I felt Jason enact a spatial-based Magecraft before I finished my actions, so he should be in another dimension right now. As to when he'll show back up, don't ask me – I'm busy."

As expected, she had no trouble replacing Asclepius's Bounded Field with her own, before she – now definitively back as one person – chanted casually, **"Fifth Magic – Grand Blue Fantasy."**

As if the two dying women lying in front of her was nothing but a mirage, their form rapidly shifted – the process being so alien and abnormal the _Argo_'s crews were forced to look away, lest their comprehension of the world would be shaved off – before restoring them back into their perfect conditions.

The two beautiful ladies quickly stood up, a similar expression of confusion dawning on their face, before they saw their teacher's presence… and promptly hugged her to death.

At the scene of the petite Hecate being body-pressed into the ground by two crying and sniveling attractive magi, Ascelpius couldn't help but form a smile on his normally-strict face. Or, rather, to be more precise, it's a surprise the goddess allowed such conduct to be performed on her own self – still wearing the same monotonous expression, even when her students wailed how much they love her – publicly.

"The esteemed Hecate has one extremely famous Authority – that of [Trinity]. That's why she could split herself into three back then, with all of them possessing the exact same powers and skills without any degradation," he explained to the still-confused Medusa. "As to the Magic she used – remember, I said 'Magic', not 'Magecraft' – you should ask her for more detail."

As his gaze shifted into the three-person meatpile still rolling around the _Argo_'s top deck, he added, "Maybe a bit later. They're busy."

* * *

"How was it? It's quite draining for me to maintain this spell, so do comment quickly," I nonchalantly ask Ars Goetia's tome, having reduced his Conceptual Weight through all forms of damage enough to prevent him from assuming his humanoid form in the near future. "…can't say a word? Well, you should burn this image in your mind, then. I'm closing the portal."

With a thought, Yata no Kagami faded back into its place in Unlimited Blade Works. Using divine artifacts like that was especially trying, because of several reasons. One, it's not a blade, even though it has circular blades surrounding its edge to allow it to be wielded in short- to medium-range combat. Second, I lack the Divinity to use it as efficiently as its original wielder – which was why Herakles was able to utilize so many of my weapons earlier without drawbacks.

Thirdly, it's not even the prototype version, but the most popular, modern ones, with reduced parameters compared to the original. Because its original wielder fell under the jurisdiction of another Heroic Vessel's clutch, I haven't had the chance to assimilate and improve this particular weapon's effect, especially those to use as Clairvoyance tools.

That's what I was doing just now: showcasing how badly Ars Goetia's plans have failed, using the sacred mirror as a viewing portal from inside my Reality Marble. Normally, any other person trying to do a similar thing will be blocked, but because this accounts as _my_ Noble Phantasm, it doesn't cause any discord with Unlimited Blade Works and allowed to function just as well.

Herakles notes from behind me, "It doesn't sound like you, to gloat around like that."

"Hush, you," I shoot back jovially. "It's a rare moment with a rare opponent. This one's different from the others we've ever faced before, and I'll explain things to you in more detail later." Standing up, I summon my Knight Arms, its Conceptual Weight causing Unlimited Blade Works to groan and Herakles to jump back far away in fright. "Speaking of which… **goodbye**."

Swinging Slash Emperor down towards the tome, I let its remains coalesce into a spherical core for storage.

I think Alaya has some need for this, since I felt Ars Notoria's presence a few times when we conversed secretly about this mission. Of course, it have no means to contact me within this Reality Marble – a strength unique to us, humans who've become Heroic Vessels – so I'll have to present this to it later also.

I tried my best to maintain a straight face when seeing Hecate in action, donning the mask of an all-knowing sage, as if everything's going according to my prediction.

Was it? Of course not.

The sight of Hecate using multiple True Magic made my internal self drop his jaw to the proverbial floor, along with similar analogies which applied.

Logically, she _is_ the Goddess of [Magic]. As the proprietor of Magecraft among deities, demigods, and humans of this era and culture, I should be able to predict this. However, her personality is renowned to be difficult and strangely reclusive. In fact, according to my investigations, only Medea and Circe are the two individuals known to interact with her on a regular basis.

But really?! The First, Second, Third, _and_ Fifth Magic? Isn't that way too overpowered?!

I'm guessing my existence is the reason she's not using the Fourth. Not that she's not capable of it – according to my new estimation – but it'll burden her so much to the point of incapacitation.

In fact, it seems that burden is settling upon her now, as her body suddenly goes limp as soon as Medea and Circe release their grip on her. Naturally, her two students panic and think they are the cause of it, but because Asclepius is there, I'll leave it to him to explain.

"Did you know all along? About everything that will happen?" Herakles asks suspiciously, having returned closer to me after I store Slash Emperor back. "Or will you excuse yourself with your 'visions' again this time?"

Standing back up, I stare back at the taller man without backing down.

"To tell you the truth, this time, they _are_ the 'visions'. Believe it or not; I don't particularly care bar your own safety." I shrug. "But as always with those, there's no way I can predict what will happen down to the minutiae. The only thing I was confident of was our victory against that abomination."

He narrows his eyes. "So you left your women back there without any confidence they'd survive unharmed?"

"Who's ever had that? Against a deity, what I had wasn't 'confidence'… but _'trust'_. There's a difference," I counter. "If you think that's not enough, then let me tell you one more thing: _It's none of your business_. As you said, they're 'my women' – as I paraphrase, though Medea isn't yet – and I'll take full responsibility of what could've happened to them. I'm prepared… whether it comes from you, Hera, or anyone else."

Walking past him, I prepare to deactivate Unlimited Blade Works. "Because that's what it means to 'trust' someone else… someone other than your own strength."

Taking a few steps away, my final mental command to the Reality Marble is interrupted by his voice.

"'Not yet', huh… So when do you plan on deflowering her?" Herakles cheekily asks.

"I don't think that's something you need to worry about yet," I chide back. "Because… _watch out_."

Without prior warning, the intense deep sea pressure envelops the two of us, as soon as Unlimited Blade Works' boundary disappears.

\- Blup. Blup. Blup.

"Buu… BUU- BUU- BUU- BUU- BUU- BUU-!" Herakles shouts and complains angrily through the sea water, as I calmly use Avalon to float up the surface, leaving him behind.

"BBBBBBBBBUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!"

* * *

Wordlessly, Atalanta could only rub Medea's trembling shoulder. No amount of pity or reassurance would work right now – in fact, they might backfire instead. All she could do was be a constant presence at this fragile girl's side, after everything she's been through in the last quick few hours.

Or, at least, that's what Shirō had taught her to do. He shown her the example of young wild cubs staying with their dying parents, when the latter should be only obstacles to the former's rise in nature's hierarchy. The gentle and caring licks – doing absolutely nothing to ease the pain, the same as her gesture right now – as well as the nuzzling of the face into the elders' belly moved her, having not experienced that kind of thing prior to meeting this new husband of hers.

Her uncle? Well, he's just hopeless, so… She'd refrain from criticizing him. It's because she cared for him; or else she'd lambast him all day bluntly.

Medusa was fuming nearby, the tension emanating from her similarly slender frame palpable. It's visible, too – her magic energy was running wild enough for her hair to move around, strand by strand, mimicking countless snakes eager to pounce on their prey.

How could she not be frustrated? Atalanta knew the feeling well – this one, she learned by herself. The emotion of anticlimax for having one's target stolen right in front of their eyes, not because of luck. No… this was simply _incompetence_. Hecate was the one who's stronger, and therefore had the right of way to battle Poseidon. The young girl must've felt disappointed and ashamed at herself for not being able to avenge her sisters with her own hands.

It's not as if the Arcadian princess didn't feel the same.

She tried her best, draining through her Od as fast as she could because, back then, she knew full well the first few seconds Medea had bought with her theft of his Divinity was crucial. It's rare she managed to hit her top speed for so long – exhilarating, even, because she was set free – while simultaneously using every single one of her trick arrows to try and permanently injure Poseidon.

It's somewhat unfair to have an individual bereft of their main power to be constantly regenerated, just because they're fighting in their home territory. Despite everything she's learned from her patron deities, she still couldn't accept it.

Medea did an excellent job. She should be rewarded as such… with victory.

Ditto with herself and Medusa. By Tartaros, every single one of the _Argo_'s crew deserved the elation and relief of having slain a powerful foe.

Yet, in several short seconds, Hecate took it all away from them.

There was no way they hated her. They simply hated their own strength, for failing to topple a weakened Poseidon. Still a god, but weakened, nonetheless. They saw what Medea was willing to sacrifice… yet they still failed, no matter how much her figure back then spurred them on.

With the main hero of the battle still a sniveling wreck beside Atalanta, who could lift their spirits? If the person who was hurting the most was still like this, how could they celebrate ridding the world of Poseidon's nuisance?

In the room behind their backs, the true savior laid there, unmoving and unconscious, tended by her eldest disciple.

Circe had been holding Hecate's hand in her palms, praying non-stop to the goddess in front of her to let her regain her former strength. There's no need to do so towards other deities, because – no disrespect intended – she didn't know who she could trust, and who her teacher trusted in turn.

In Ancient Greece, not only prayers of any kind gave the related deities strength, it would also reveal information regarding the worshipers', such as location, identity, gender, strength, and so on. When Circe didn't know too much of the current situation, as she was just recently saved herself, prudency was the order of the day. At the very least, Hecate taught her that much, so all she could do was honor this lesson.

The tears which had stopped… flowed again, repeating the same cycle over and over again.

She'd gone past cursing her own weakness, which resulted in her capture. She heard what Medea had done to avenge her previous state – an act which elicited endless pride in her heart, but also regret – and what Hecate was forced to do to save the two of them. She could guess what the other crews of the _Argo _experienced in order to save her, as well, and while the fact she was so precious it required them – the greatest group of adventurers in Greece, bar none – to succeed flattered her, they weren't her piglets to order and toy with, as well.

In short, she was used as the weakness in the plan Athena had built… and it angered her.

If Poseidon wasn't dead, there's very little doubt Circe would've chosen to assist her master and apprentice-sister, permanent injury or death be damned.

The master who's always aloof and cold. The master whose white hat and cape were always the image she chased after. The master who took her in – a magus who abused her powers wantonly – and made her _family_. The master who struggled to emote properly. The master whose cute moments were far and few in between. The master who trained her harshly, but with an underlying sense of love in it – and the master who'd never admitted to that, such was her personality.

Or, to be more exact, one of her personalities.

\- Click.

"Shirō…" Circe muttered, immediately recognizing the person who'd just opened the door from his footsteps alone.

Or, to be more exact, the lack of it. Not even her master was able to move quite like that, apart when she's floating around silently.

The redhead seemed rather tired, though, compared to the last time she saw him at his wedding. Perhaps something had happened? The girls outside did say they last saw him with Herakles, after all. That man could be hard to deal with, as attested to by some of her piglets when they're still human.

\- Pat.

Like how she'd seen he did to Medea many times, he stroked her long pink hair gently, before quietly asking, "I know this is hard, but… can you give Hecate and I some time alone?"

"Y-YOU CAN HEAL HER?!" Circe immediately jumped at the prospect, shooting up into a rigid standing stance while grabbing his shoulders. That shout surprised the girls outside, particularly Medea, who immediately stormed the room together with Atalanta and Medusa.

He waved them off, before ushering all of them towards the door. "Well, not 'healing', perhaps. I have an idea what's happening with her, but there's some things I want to try. It's dangerous for all of you to be here, in contrast to what's going to happen to Hecate."

* * *

After some more persuasion, I finally manage to make them leave the two of us alone.

Really, they're such good girls, but when they care that much, it actually becomes a hindrance to the actual professionals. I'm sure Asclepius has experienced this feeling many times already – though unlike me, he has the fortitude to cruelly kick out people unrelated to the healing process without hesitation.

Casually, I sit where Circe has been until now, replacing her hold on Hecate's hand with my own.

\- Bzzt.

Immediately, I feel a gentle tingling sensation flowing into me.

It's nothing intentional. Hecate's magic energy is simply exceptional, and even in her weakened state, it's overflowing when viewed by the appropriate methods. Because of my nasal sensitivity, Pure Eyes, knowledge from Akasha, as well as my status as a Heroic Vessel, she appears far too brilliant from up close, much like how an unqualified person will feel when reaching towards the sun.

I'll never tell Icarus that, of course.

Her Conceptual Weight is even higher than Athena's or Hera's. it's my mistake to never calculate this in my plans.

It's also my mistake to allow Medea, Atalanta, and Medusa to be injured during their battle with Poseidon, just like what I told Herakles earlier. My pragmatic side immediately reminds me of my words back then – those of 'trust' – but how can I allow that to happen, with all the powers that are given to me?

The contradiction between regret and relief – a familiar conflicting pain in my chest – assaults me once again, because of a part of any Heroic Vessel's desire to play god with those we favor. What use is this near-omnipotent knowledge, overwhelming skill, and cheat-like powers if we can't even use them to coddle those we love and protect them from all harm, forever? Improvements through pain be damned; the selfish part in me is just like Æ**ë**tes: a desire to completely dominate and control the lives of those around me, just so they can be what I perceive to be 'happy'.

And then… there's the part in me who naïvely wish for the best to happen to them, either their ordeals, their challenges, or their gifts, if they make those people a better person.

Did I succeed? Did I fail? I haven't contacted Alaya to hand in Ars Goetia's remains, so I don't know the objective evaluation. While we have our differences, Alaya always have more insight to the bigger picture – not the least how the things I do can save a Quantum Time Lock in a way the Sisters of Fate can't predict.

I am inclined to believe in the latter.

Harsh… and petulant, I know. But if it's not perfect, then I fail nonetheless. Perhaps it's improbable… no, impossible, even – but that's the reason why it's worth chasing after. To dream of a perfect, fairy tale-like ending is naïve and childish in the extreme… but I do it every time nonetheless.

I activate my Pure Eyes, before Reinforcing it to the maximum.

Pure Eyes, compared to Mystic Eyes like Medusa's Cybele, for instance, doesn't need any magic energy to operate. In fact, if left alone after harvested from a corpse, so long as it's kept in pristine condition, it can continue being active indefinitely. Mystic Eyes, on the contrary, needs the appropriate magic energy and spiritual comprehension just to use safely – otherwise, the user's head may come off with a spectacular explosion.

Difficult ones like 'Death Perception' are often in this category. Cybele can be dangerous if implanted to a mortal – fortunately, Medusa isn't one. Mine, though, is just a plain Pure Eyes, no matter how suited with my Magecraft.

Therefore, Reinforcing them is often overkill. Inexperienced user can ruin it permanently, though the risk of fatal injury is low.

I'm not inexperienced, and am not afraid of injury, either.

Material. Ethereal. Conceptual. The three possible evolutions of this Pure Eyes… have been long mastered, though I rarely have the chance to utilize all three at the same time.

When any single one is enough to kill any opponent, combining all of their effects is somewhat of a splurging moment. However, I can't spare any effort regarding Hecate's current condition.

I've seen what she's done, and am able to predict the sacrifice she made.

At worst, her Divine Graph is permanently damaged, damning her to a limited time before she disappears for good. Deities doesn't die normally – the concept of humane 'death' not applying to them – but there's a generally accepted fact: When no one recognizes a particular deity and their Authority anymore, they cease to exist. Whether they're completely erased from the Akashic Records as unnecessary data or permanently move to the Reverse Side of the World to preserve their self depends on them… and those who care for them.

However, a voice interrupts my thought.

"There's no need for all that bothersome things, Heroic Vessel."

Hecate's voice is weak, but confident, as she eyes me straight-on with her doll-like emotionless face.

"I have to. If not for you… then, for _them_," I insist, sensing where this conversation is going. "Also… I still need you and your presence."

She narrows her eyes, as if insulted, though the lack of facial muscular movement means nothing in particular is shown. "That is not a good line to woe any woman, much less one such as I."

I can only chuckle at her flat attempt of a joke, before continuing with my motions.

My silver eyes shine so brightly now, it's casting a shadow around me and Hecate. To her, my Conceptual Weight doesn't increase, but will feel more spread out to envelop her.

Resigning to her treatment, she asks after a while, "How is it?"

"You may need to sleep a bit longer."

She tenses up. "How long?"

"In the Reverse Side of the World? Perhaps… until the next era comes," I regretfully admit, having scanned her down to the origins of her Divine Graph and Authorities.

Originally, everything's born from [Chaos] or the [Void]. Direct descendants of it wield considerable creative or destructive powers, such as Gaia, TYPE-MOON, or Velber. Then, to balance them out, further generations – while weaker overall – are born with the attribute designed to kill their predecessors. Alaya, myself, Aristoteles… the list goes on and on, doomed to repeat itself until everything goes back to the very beginning…

[Chaos], once again.

Every single cycle can be considered an 'era', though interpretations vary between historians and Heroic Vessels such as myself and my 'siblings'.

The next era has already been predicted by Alaya – a time when Athena will lead a new generation of Pantheon, one who will enforce and maintain a peaceful and harmonious life between deities, humans, those in-between, and various conceptual Mysteries. Unlike the future where I originally came from, where all of these are so separate they destroy each other upon accidental contact, this is a goal Alaya thinks can avert our return to the primordial soup.

And, with that, Hecate does need a long time to recover.

"You said you need me. I also think the same… with my disciples," she closes her eyes in frustration. Even from Yata no Kagami's virtual screen, I could feel the intensity of her True Magics, especially with her [Trinity] fully in play. The person in front of me… is most likely not that much different than a mortal. "Can you…"

I stop her from finishing her sentence. Even a human's words can be considered a prayer and a curse – much less a deity's.

With my palm fully shutting up her mouth, I gravely order, "_Do not finish that sentence_… or even that line of thought. That's just the worst-case scenario-"

"But the most probable one," she admits freely, speaking through my fingers. "And your hand smells of the ocean. Remove it with haste from my nose. I'm allergic to losers."

Once again, her attempt at a joke falls flat, even though I mentally agree in calling Poseidon – and the Authorities he wielded – a 'loser'.

Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I continue, "There… is a Bounded Field I can set up, where you can restore your strength much faster than the natural speed of the Reverse Side of the World. Its Authorities… are [Eternity], [Fairy], and [Light]. Can you handle those?"

"Who do you think you're speaking to? I'm the strongest. Do it."

Raising her upper body against my protests, she stares at me straight in the eyes. "No need to call them. Even if it's just a single second… I wish to hasten my recovery. Like you said, I am needed in this future reality. That much, I know very well."

Looking at my incredulous expression, she adds, "It's not only Athena who is 'wise', Heroic Vessel. You'll do well to remember that."

I can only shake my head, before infusing her with Avalon.

Or, to be exact, placing her _in_ the sheath, just like how I will do to a [Sword].

A [Sword] which can cast multiple True Magics at the same time. How frightening…

* * *

**Glossary Update!**

* * *

**E**

**Erymánthios Kápros: Seductive Wilderness**  
** Rank: EX**  
** Type: Support**  
** Range: 1**  
** Max. Targets: 1**

Herakles's most prized Mystic Code, and the most difficult to use. It took the form of a preserved heart of a Divine Beast-ranked wild boar, activated just like any other Mystic Code. Originally, said boar was the avatar of Ares before the god left, and the empty husk was taken care of by the Sisters of Fate before being let loose again to live peacefully in the wild. Its rank came from its Conceptual Weight and not from its battle prowess.

Possessing a myriad fate-altering attributes as self-defense, even after its death, its main ability was to cast unending and fatal misfortunes onto those who threatened it – a protective gift from the Sisters of Fate who're fond of the boar's attractive appearance. Because it's normal-sized, it's very appealing to cuddle and hug, especially with its soft fur and squishy meat.

* * *

**K**

**Kerberos Kólasi: Descent into Purgatory**  
** Rank: B+**  
** Type: Anti-Unit**  
** Range: 10**  
** Max. Targets: 5**

One of the very few Magecraft-based attacks Herakles had mastered. A combination of the Eleusinian Mysteries and the underworld's three-headed guardian dog's Conceptual Weight, in essence, it's a pseudo-Magic Crest which allowed Herakles – who was inept at complicated Magecraft – to utilize Kerberos's black hellfire with the speed of a Single-Action spell. Granted from the re-enactment of 'descent', 'search', and 'ascent', this Mystery was granted upon his successful mastery over the Monstrous Beast.

Materializing as undying tongues of black heat, its intensity couldn't even be described by flames, but something far more ferocious and eternal. It usually coated Herakles's extremities, as he lacked the skill to use it as a medium- to long-range weapon like Kerberos. However, given his physical prowess, distance was usually not a problem.

**Kerynitis Elaphos: Brass Sprinter**  
** Rank: C+**  
** Type: Support**  
** Range: 1**  
** Max. Targets: 1 **

One of the very few Magecraft-based attacks Herakles had mastered. A combination of Artemis's Divine Blessings and the enormous female reindeer from Keryneia – though native to the northern reaches of Hyperborea. Forming a pseudo-Magic Crest to allow Herakles to use its Mysteries, it granted a boost to Agility and Luck, as according to his account, the hind was able to outrun a skilled archer's arrow mid-flight.

With the assistance of Atalanta, Artemis's prized priestess, Herakles laid a trap to capture the hind non-lethally to fulfil the literal conditions of his quest. It was then safely released back into the wild as per the goddess's request. Its golden antlers were continuously recyclable and environmentally friendly, and was used as a popular custom addition to a certain S-Ranked blacksmith-cum-adventurer's lineup of personalized weaponry.

* * *

**L**

**Lernaîa Hýdra: Immortal Poisonous Torture**  
** Rank: EX**  
** Type: Anti-Unit; Anti-Divine**  
** Range: 1**  
** Max. Targets: 1**

The concentrated blood of the nine-headed serpent guarding the entrance to the underworld in Lake Lerna. When alive, it's so potent that simply standing near the Hýdra was enough to get poisoned, as it seeped through the creature's pores to pollute its surroundings in the form of poisonous fumes. The ultimate form of poison, in which the four major groups (necro-, cyto-, neuro-, and myotoxins) were represented, before being concocted into the umpteenth degree inside the living Hýdra.

It's lethal enough to kill any organism with low Conceptual Weight in an instant before any pain set in, but higher-levelled beings would feel the agonizing torture before they succumbed to the poison, the length of time depending on their Conceptual Weight and other factors. Its processed form was applicable to most inorganic metals, though pre-treatment was necessary to prevent long-term damage to any weapon the poisonous blood coated.

It's highly flammable.

* * *

**N**

**Neméos Léōn: Golden Mane Armor**  
** Rank: A**  
** Type: Support**  
** Max. Targets: 1**  
** Range: 1**

The hide of the Monstrous Beast-class lion who terrorized the city of Nemea. Impenetrable to everything bar its own claws, Herakles skinned the corpse to serve as his main defensive armament against most weapons. Killed using blunt force trauma instead of a sharp weapon, the hide itself carried this weakness to this day, though of course its primary wielder was far too skilled to allow such sloppy attacks to reach him. No attacks below its rank would penetrate; those of the same rank would have their damage stat deducted by one full rank; only attacks beyond A-Rank could bypass this defense.

The rest of the lion's corpse was bought off by a mysterious buyer, who claimed he'd make a series of weapons for himself from the various body parts discarded by Herakles.

* * *

**S**

**Stymphalídes Ornithes: Cannibal Bombers**  
** Rank: B**  
** Type: Anti-Unit; Anti-Army**  
** Range: 100**  
** Max. Targets: 50**

A set of throwing knives the size of normal xiphos, finished in bronze. Made from the remains of the voracious, man-eating swamp-based birds in Stymphalia, every single knife used an entire bird as its main ingredient. Heavy, but well-balanced, they had the trait of [Man-Seeker], which automatically target any living being when thrown. Control was near-impossible, owing to the wild nature of these animals when alive; thus, Herakles usually only used them when he's alone or with a reliable partner, who's strong enough to avoid injury from the errant collateral strikes.

Every bird's corpse was full of potential material – their beaks, claws, feathers, dung, innards, and skeleton were all usable. Their soft tissues were highly poisonous, being potent necrotoxins, though their precise application differed depending on which parts were used in certain quantities. Their hardened parts were metallic in nature – highly resilient, excellent edge retention – and suitable for use as arms. Their musculature was the only useless thing they had.


	24. Sleeping Treasures

**Hello, everyone! Here's the next chapter!**

**I realize my uploading schedule has slowed down recently, almost back to the time when I was writing HV-S01: RKR. Honestly, my current schedule makes this tempo more preferable ****– both due to IRL and beta stuff. I hope you guys can still enjoy the story with this pace. Sorry for this. I want to give a shout-out to my current beta projects I mentioned in the previous chapter, so go check them out! Also, I've recently discovered the anime series Today's Menu for the Emiya Family... and honestly, that's probably the best TYPE-MOON anime ever produced. Because it's original, there's no complaining how different it is with the VN, which can be said (slightly) against UBW & HF.**

**Glad the last chapter went down well. Some said the fights are too one-sided, but honestly, because I prefer realism more than idealism, it often goes that way in real life, too. I do have plans for more drawn-out, dramatic battles, so look forward to those.**

**Mailbag!  
****PanzerJ: You'll find out in later chapters! See you then!**  
**tsun: That's intentional! Have you seen real-life, pragmatic combat? It's to take down the opponent as fast as possible without giving them time to play their strategy, and dominate until the end. That's why I wrote the Argo was rushing to Atlantis to take the initiative away from their opponents.  
nanox876: ****Because he's not doing his 'Labors'. SHIROU's existence meant Hera didn't bully him into doing all 12, so they're just normal hard quests instead of 'Labors'. Naturally, not all 12 will be told in-story.  
Serpent King: [the review's excerpt] ****Thanks for the review! Like I said in one of the ANs, I will mess around with the timeline to position necessary characters close to each other. Perseus and Jason were by themselves separated by at least two generations; so did Medusa and Medea, if we're going with historical canon. So I'll excuse myself by using 'writer's creativity' against your critique.  
Trasgo Madaraz Artifex: ****Not sure what you meant by the whole second part of your review. Can you explain the references? I don't get them.  
MrAracn & ******Spacetojump**: ****Just think of it this way: Modern True Magics' nomenclature was inspired by Hecate's initial teachings, passed down the generations. Of course there's more True Magics still left for me to use in the future. Look forward to it! High-Speed Incantation wasn't True Magic at the time... but simply 'normal'. That's all. The phrase was coined by modern magi because they couldn't do it as fast as Medea, but for her, it's just average. Not fast, not slow. What differentiates more in this era is the understanding, instead of the belief/system.  
**

* * *

From the time she was born, Pandora loathed loneliness. Not that she particularly let that humane emotions affect her; it's more to do with the lack of entertainment going on around her, being bound and immobile and that.

Alaya gave her to Hephaestus as an 'inspiration', so he could complete Zeus's orders and satiate the Olympians' desire to be worshiped by lesser beings. She, the prototype human. She was supposed to be Alaya's representative in the world – a human representing humanity's representative – but, in the end, just like everyone else around her, Alaya discarded her after realizing she's not suitable for its plans.

Not because she's flawed. Rather… because she's _perfect_.

Who were the Counter Guardians before they ascend? Desperate failures who desired things far greater than what they could realistically achieve, who got seduced by the power Alaya dangled in front of them for a moment's satisfaction. They didn't even consider the long-term torture it clearly laid out in front of them, in bold letters on top of a metaphorical clear contract paper. Drug addicts, the lot of them: all for a moment's glory, disregarding their own eternity.

Who were the Heroic Vessels before they ascend? Broken souls – and even worse human beings – who were so incomplete and wounded they allowed Alaya to freely control and shape them into the things it desired, their own wishes put to the side. While they retained their conscience, that was the only silver lining in that deal. Their happiness, their futures, their powers… all rested in its hands, and for it to take away just as easily as to give. Bums and paupers, nothing more.

But she wasn't them. Oh, no… she was _flawless_. Created by the best technology and miracles the Olympians had access to, designed by Alaya itself – who had access to the Akashic Records to create the perfect human vessel in the past, present, or future – she was supposed to be _the one_. She was supposed to be the first human, the one who guided the future of humanity with these very two hands, and the harbinger of the end of the Age of Gods.

It should've been her…

But, in the end, not only did she get stuck in this place, it's the hanging description of her situation which bothered her the most.

She became Alaya's first failure. And the Olympians'. And Hephaestus's, the only individual closest to a father figure for her. And the rest of the Heroic Vessels'.

There was no doubt in her mind what SHIRŌ would look like and say if he saw her current condition. Pity. Sadness. Arrogance. Pride.

And don't forget murderous intent, too, once he connected everything together and realized she's the culprit behind everything which had been happening in Ancient Greece. Or did he already do that, too? Then… would he come here himself? Or backed by Alaya, just like all those spineless cowards did when they declared her demise?

Those very same people whom she fed to the Flames of Olympus, the core of the famed mountain itself. It's the object which enabled the entire area to become separate from mortal attempts, less of a Bounded Field and more of a separate dimension like the Reverse Side of the World. Oh, she knew of the latter's use in the future, where creatures she hated – namely, the Divine Spirits parodying well-meaning deities – would run from humanity's encroachment of their rule.

Not that they knew their fates now. With or without her interference, the Age of Gods were doomed to fall so long as Alaya existed. It's only in what manner it's interested in: Pandora's… or SHIRŌ's?

To stubbornly wish for a happy ending, an ideal utopia where a perfect balance between [Chaos] and [Order] was achieved, no matter the cost. To chase after an impossible ideal, where all was saved, including those who didn't deserve salvation. In fact, the latter was the exact targets of the Heroic Vessel: to change the problems at the root before it could blossom into erroneous data towards the bigger picture.

Or to simply burn it all down and start over, every single time it failed? It suited Pandora's personality better – after all, if everyone other than her was flawed, why should she cater to their attributes? It was they who should aspire to be closer to her, not the other way around.

Perfection did have its foibles, it seemed.

And now, she was all alone, just like the first day she was put into this place by those unworthy.

Ars Goetia and Notoria were both defeated splendidly. Not only did she fail to decipher their conditions during their final battle, their remains couldn't even return to or detected by her at all. She had an idea where they might end up – Alaya was famed to dislike wasting resources, after all, just like what Pandora described earlier about Heroic Vessels and Counter Guardians – but it wouldn't matter now.

Not that she's so backed up in this corner, she'd lost control over her three other tomes.

Just a moment ago, without warning, they disappeared. Not sent away, not escaped… just _gone_. Without warning.

They shouldn't even attained consciousness yet, needing to gather their strength more through her magic energy. Goetia and Notoria had more efficient structure, owing to their strong personalities which affected their Conceptual Weight. The other three weren't quite the same; more… _abstract_ rather than humanoid, compared to their two siblings. While more controllable, they were also younger and more prone to outside influence.

And it must be the latter which had happened. Alaya was the most likely culprit.

\- Clink. Clink. Clink.

Deep in the depths of Olympus, a noise no one wished to hear echoed throughout the supposedly-empty chamber.

Pandora playfully rubbed her wrists and ankles, having decided to indulge in the desire to free herself after all this time. Naturally, not a mark could be observed around her limbs, as the supposedly power-sealing chains failed to register even the slightest of feeling in her.

\- Crack.

She craned her lithe neck left and right, letting the joints pop satisfyingly – despite the sound being a placeboeic illusion. She had no issue with her physical body, not before, not now, not ever would be, because of her special constitution.

One which was a 'gift' from that Alaya to seduce her to do its bidding.

But no longer.

She had long suppressed her impatience, thinking conserving her energy and focus for long-term planning were more vital than acting herself to decisively finish conflicts. Therefore, she let her tomes do the hard graft – they're completely loyal to her, and impossible to bend out of her rule, so why not use them? It's not as if they'd betray her with white lies and half-truths, like Alaya did…

At least, that's what she believed until several moments ago.

Pandora's not a former Heroic Vessel for nothing. Her initial spec wasn't found wanting at all, as the first 'perfect' human the Greek pantheon created to serve as future templates for their worshippers. The contact with the Akashic Records during her 'birth' was enough for her to gain an instinctive sense whenever Alaya acted, as its signature was unmistakable.

It's one no other being other than those like her would be able to detect. Therefore, Pandora was sure none of the gods of Olympus knew of its existence – bar those it appeared in front of personally – and not of the conflict between them.

Good. Anonymity was always good when dealing with otherworldly beings. While she viewed the Olympians as beneath her, they could become annoying tiny obstacles standing in her way, slowing her down enough for Alaya and SHIRŌ to react.

Such as the one existing in front of her right now.

"Mmpphhh! Mmffff!" A female voice screamed out, muffled by the thick chains circling her mouth. She tried her best to break free since a few minutes ago, but all it did was for the chains to tighten around her entire body even more, now almost enveloping her entire form in a metallic cocoon, as well as sap her divine strength further and further. "MMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

\- Pat. Pat. Pat.

Pandora condescendingly rubbed Hera's sweaty head, chuckling evilly.

Now that this fool had walked right into Pandora's own hands by herself, she could skip several steps in her immediate future and go straight into action.

Was Hera overconfident in the security of her own domain? Or was she overcautious in being wary of her husband's changed personality, blinding her from a potential danger lurking in an unseen corner?

The answer was likely a combination of both – a trait shared by most Olympians the moment the _Titanomakhia_ was over. They went complacent, going from a warrior-like mentality needed to survive in a war against their predecessors to petty governors fighting over trivial things. Sometimes they even invented new ordeals for their worshippers, just to serve as their own entertainment.

No matter how much they tried to hide it, their true nature was the same: of joy seeing mortals suffer. They might proclaim to love and 'bless' their retainers, those who served them with their whole bodies and hearts as priests and priestesses and heroes and champions… but it was all false in the end.

Just like how Pandora was to Alaya.

And now, the patron of her greatest threat was immobilized right here, acting as a substitute as to not trigger the alarm system holding Pandora's jail secure.

Of course, she's long modified that into giving false readings – how could she have lured Zeus in and corrupted him in the first place if she hadn't done so? This prison was merely papier-mâché, an act she put up as she built up her forces behind the scenes, far from Alaya's prying eyes and SHIRŌ's guarded mind. The Olympians prided themselves to be more 'refined' and 'cultured' than their predecessors, but it's precisely their vanity which allowed Pandora so much leeway.

The Protogenoi were quite troublesome, in a way they're less of a collection of individuals, but more of separate concepts operating within their own brand of common sense. Fooling their instincts was hard ordeal, as their literal presence was spread throughout the World and vice versa – it, too, was part of their existence. Manipulation was impossible, as their intelligence – or whatever remained of them – was so far out of the norm Pandora herself wasn't confident in holding a simple conversation, much less lying to their face, and to understand their intentions.

The Titans felt a similar feeling against the Protogenoi the Olympians did against them – that was, a sense of superiority and know-it-all, secure in their arrogance that a newer generation would always fated to surpass the old. In a sense, they inherited the worst of the generations pincering them, resulting in inelegant giants who went along their unruly desires and instincts rather than what's actually good as a whole. That's the sole reason the Olympians were able to defeat them – the lack of unity meant working together was impossible in a large-scale war, where the Olympians were able to take advantage of the situations more flexibly and readily.

Or, like Pandora described beforehand, the previous selves of the Olympians. These ones had long lost their fangs.

They're just lambs now, ready to be slaughtered.

And Hera's eyes pleaded with that very same light – one of fear, obedience, and submission – all of which warmed Pandora's entire being greatly.

She reached out with her thin fingers to brush the tears collecting on the corners of Hera's eyes. Her shorter figure meant she had to levitate in the air to do so – but it only imposed her will against the Queen of Olympus.

Hera knew full well what these chains could do.

Connected straight to the Flames of Olympus, those they held captive would serve as feed to the multicolored flames, ending as fuel to ensure the continuation of the pantheon. What pained them the most was the fact it'd happen gradually instead of instantly – in an eerily similar manner how Zeus tortured his uncle, Prometheus, for daring to 'consort' with humans – leaving any beings with high Conceptual Weight motionless, dreading the end of the eons of torture they'd endure before their souls were finally ground to dust.

Prior to Pandora, this was created to hold Atlas and anchor him to his eternal curse – to lift up the [Sky], a mockery of Zeus's mastery of it, creating a parody of the Titan being stepped upon by the Olympian. Only after the chief god felt satisfied of the amount of Divinity and Conceptual Weight drained from Atlas did he let go of the chains, secure in the knowledge the latter wouldn't have the strength to break free, having to concentrate in his duty in order to not perish simply by being crushed by the [Sky].

And now, it held Zeus's beloved wife in the places of the captive who wronged the chief god simply by existing in a manner he didn't approve of.

Smiling sweetly, in a manner befitting her child-like size, Pandora whispered to the panicking Hera, "I sincerely hope your champion can provide me with better entertainment than you, o' Goddess of [Family]."

As the last of the chain links covered the despairing goddess's face, encasing her fully in a metallic egg, Pandora sauntered out of the room.

"Because I bore of people dying too quickly against me."

Truly, one must do things themselves if they wanted anything to be done these days…

* * *

"Sir Shirō! M-Master is…"

Medea rushed towards me with Circe in tow, clearly having felt Hecate's magical signature disappeared in an instant. The goddess, to me, had a confusing 'feel' to her presence, as both my vision and olfactory magical senses are sent into overdrive by her existence alone. The [Trinity] truly lives up to her name, as well as her title as the Goddess of [Magic] – it won't do if a 'layman' like me is able to figure out all her secrets in one glance.

However, if I have to elaborate on it, she smells like… _Velber_. A transcendental existence closer in Conceptual Weight to a star, rather than the Ultimate Ones of relatively smaller planets. Quite fitting, really, as according to legends, her mother was the Titaness Aster, whose name directly means 'star'. However, it does carry a heavily worldly undertone, such as the flower aster, the complicated scent of barrel-aged, wood-roasted alcohol, and fresh vellum.

As to what she looks like under my Pure Eyes? Well… I'm not sure Medea and Circe will want to know that, or the person herself will wish for it to be revealed to others.

Circe immediately stops Medea before she can plough into my stomach. I'm quite sure it'll hurt, given how trained my musculature is and how hers… _isn't_ when compared.

"Shirō… just tell us. We have no need of wistful words," she remarks, much to the tearful protest of her younger apprentice-sister.

Smiling weakly, I extract Medea from Circe's forceful restrains, telling the two of them, "Don't worry. She's not dead. Her signature vanished because she's recovering in another dimension, undetectable by your school of Magecraft. She's the one who approved of this method, so all I can critique is her unwillingness to impart several words to the two of you."

Behind me, the door to Hecate's resting room is still open, so I usher the two of them inside, giving Atalanta and Medusa – who're sitting patiently and sullenly behind – an apologetic look. Clearly, they're just as emotional as these two girls, particularly Medusa, but for different reasons. Because I am only one person, I can only deal with one problem at a time, unfortunately.

The two female magi stumble into a sight completely alien to them.

Ancient Greece landscape, climate, and environment matches its Mediterranean latitude – the term itself is coined many centuries later – which means it's quite temperate, with scorching sun in the southernmost point and near-constant biting winds and occasional monsoon at the north. That's why Hippolyta and Molpadia is quite tanned, and why her sister is such an exquisite sight to see, as an albino in a sun-kissed environment.

Therefore, they've never seen a field of flowers grown in a colder, milder climate, with warm – instead of burning – golden sunrays framing the picture. The strong wind so advantageous to naval trades and exploration isn't there. Instead, a soft breeze constantly strokes the flower stalks like a mother's caring caress, each capped with multicolored petals bunched together tightly, unlike Greece's various enormous flowering flora.

Hecate lays there, in the middle of the grass-and-flower field, with shining motes of light surrounding her, infusing themselves inside, and empowering her slowly. Far too slowly for my and her liking, that's for sure – and a potential eternity for her students right here, who's standing with moist eyes and staggered stance.

They wanted nothing more than to reach out with their fingers to touch her unmoving body. They wanted nothing more than to step through into the dimension she's in, to be by her side, just like how she was there during their lowest points in life. They wanted nothing more than to put in the effort of healing her themselves, like how she brought them back from the precipice of death.

And now, all they can do is watch helplessly, as unknown golden motes of light, moving organically rather than in a pre-programmed manner, work on her entire being, out of their reach. Not even their voices and prayers can reach her now.

My version of Avalon is more complete and authentic than the one belonging to 'Shirō Emiya' or EMIYA, partly because I don't have the opportunity to have the actual artifact implanted in my body. While that technique, performed by Kiritsugu Emiya, improves an amateur's understanding on what could've been described as the purest remaining Divine Mystery in the modern world, it means they're limited in their observation from a third-person's point of view.

I, meanwhile, have the opportunity to witness its power with my own eyes, face-to-face with my Pure Eyes, as well as having at-least-decent relationships with two of its most prominent wielder.

I don't particularly miss them, because they're right here in front of me, standing invisibly and watching over Medea's and Circe's semi-mourning. Artoria's normally-calm demeanor melts lightly in pity, while Mordred can't wait to scream and yell at me for letting two girls wallow in their own misery like this without comforting them, like what I did to her so many times. Unfortunately for them, to maintain the mood, I tell them mentally to not voice their concerns audibly.

The two magi know innately this isn't the end… but the conclusion to this case will likely be beyond their own lifetime.

The very last time they'll see their beloved teacher, who's become more of a mother than their own flesh-and-blood ones, until I decide to close the portal soon.

A [Barrier] formed when summoning the land of the faeries, kept in check only by an agreement between me and their queen, one of the Ladies of the Lake. Instead of a sheath, it's a more complete miracle in its purer form, replicating the Mystery which Merlin and Nyneve used as the base for Avalon's prototype.

Even when standing here, doing nothing, it's draining quite a bit of my magic energy, whose amount has already significantly decreased after fighting Goetia non-stop and summoning both Unlimited Blade Works and Slash Emperor.

"I'll close the portal now," I am forced to say.

As the two of them slowly and unenthusiastically back off, with a mental command, the gate to the world of faeries slowly fades away into nothingness.

At the same time, I embrace both of their shoulders from behind, and simply squeeze them into my chest. No words will do their feelings justice right now, and all I can do is give a silent reassurance that _I am here_, and ready to help anytime they're ready for it. And it's not just me, either – as I represent the entire crew of the _Argo_ in joining their semi-mourning, I'm sure.

Circe grumbles, headbutting me with her pink locks. "Don't you dare blame yourself in front of us."

"I am doing exactly that… just in silence," I quip, trying to lighten the mood. "Let me feel things my own way, Circe. Respect it."

"I refuse. You'll just apologize over and over again, despite clearly trusting Medea's skills to do the job, right?" She caustically replies, clearly not feeling any mental ill-effects after her torture at the hands of Poseidon. "You'll just teach her a bad example. Are you listening to this, Medea? Don't copy this guy."

"Mh-hmm," she meekly mumbles, wiping the last droplets of tears away. "Sir Shirō is a perfectionist, after all. I completely understand."

"But I still came too late," I argue, though I can sense myself losing by the second. When faced by two tearful expressions of beautiful women, only those who're inhuman will be able to stay unmoved. "It's my arrogance which caused this, so…"

"Just shut up. Your chance has pass," Circe scolds, before extracting herself from me. She stands at her tiptoes, kissing me on the cheek. "But I appreciate your thought. Bye."

\- Click.

She closes the door softly behind us, when Medea immediately occupies the space where Circe was and buries her head deeper, letting more of her hiccups and tremors flow out.

"D-Did I… d-do a g-good job…? M-Master…" She chokes on her words, clenching her fist over my clothes. "S-Sir Shirō… I w-was s-strong… r-right?"

"Yes. Undoubtedly," I affirm. "I won't speak for Hecate, but… I, myself, am proud of your effort and courage. Maybe I'm not the person from whom you'll like to hear this, but…" Patting her head, I whisper, "Good job. Very good job."

\- Sob… Sob… Sob… Sob… Sob…

"Uuu… Uwwuuuu… UUUUWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH…!"

* * *

"That… T-That b-bastard…"

A large palm clenched itself over the edge of the _Argo_'s deck, hoisting its owner's body overboard. Herakles's large frame fell onto the dry dock with a dull 'boom', surprising Ancaeus, who's once again deputizing as the helmsman.

"W-What happened to you, man…" The old hunter inquires, lazily maneuvering the steering wheel around. Without Poseidon's powers to fear, he could afford to leisurely take his mind off navigating, since the destination had been approved of beforehand. "Why did you go for a swim at this hour?"

"Because I was forced to! By! That! JASON! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOOOOOUUUUUUUUU!" He roared, stomping into the wooden floor with his elbow. "MAKING ME SWIM FROM THE _FUCKIN' OCEAN FLOOR_!"

"E-Ehh…" Ancaeus could only stroke his scraggly beard, sweat-dropping in his place.

The situation wasn't helped by the follow-up quip… from Jason himself, who's already standing over Herakles's soaked head.

"I thought you liked swimming as a hobby."

"I'LL FUCKIN' KILL YYYYYYOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUU!"

"Yes, yes, welcome back," the redhead nonchalantly replied, clearly not in the mood to owe up to anything. Innumerable chain links appeared out of thin air from numerous angles, restraining Herakles who launched himself off the deck floor like a bullet. "Now, behave… unless you want to swim all the way back to port, too."

"DON'T YOU-"

"Yes, I do."

As if to prove a point, he moved the now-bundled-up Herakles off the _Argo_, and dangled him there above the water surface from a makeshift crane – from which he looped one end of the chain to hoist the large man up.

"Sorry about this, man."

"APOLOGY NOT ACCEPTED! I DON'T FUCKIN' ACCEPT IIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTT!"

"Bye, for now."

\- Snap!

With a mental command, the chains lowered themselves to the point of _just_ skimming the water surface, threatening Herakles into silence.

Meanwhile, Shirō-slash-Jason made his way towards his uncle-in-law, saying, "I'll take over now, Uncle."

The older man was really speechless for several moments, having witnessed the treatment of an S-Ranked adventurer, one of the most powerful individuals in the world, by this nephew-in-law of his. "A-Ah… Y-Yeah, I suddenly feel tired…"

Popping a few of his joints, he added before he fully left, "Shouldn't you be with Atalanta? Or are you dumping her onto me again? I don't wanna' deal with her moodiness… Too tired…"

"I've spoken with her, but she's more concerned with taking care of everyone. Thus, she kicked me out of the room," the young man replied with a shrug. "I picked a good woman… perhaps _too_ good."

Somehow, his words caused Ancaeus to chuckle, before bellowing into a full-blown laughter. "Aha… Ahahaha… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!"

"Pardon?" Shirō tilted his head sideways, not really understanding what must've been an inside joke.

"Pfft… Hahaha… Aha… N-Nothing! J-Just remembering s-something…!" He clutched his stomach, bent over from the sudden burst of joy. "Y-You're absolutely right; she's a g-good girl…! Pfft…!"

Not really getting anything understandable from the older man, Shirō simply silently clutched the steering wheel tighter, in an effort to distract himself from whatever's just happened.

In the time it took for Herakles to swim up from the destroyed remains of Atlantis, chase after the boat, and haul himself up, he'd put Medea to bed, as the young girl was too emotionally distressed to stay awake. It's not understandable – the intense emotions he banked her to achieve during her battle with Poseidon would've been too much for someone as inexperienced as she was, leaving her drained of energy afterwards, even after Hecate used True Magic to restore her functions.

And he manipulated such a sweet young girl, just like the owner of his current body.

Not just Medea. The entire _Argo_ crew. Atalanta and Medusa.

He said to Herakles he 'trusted' them, but his negligence nearly caused irreversible damage to his entire current _family_. Yes, that's what they were – a misfit and strange group, for sure, but very close nonetheless, especially after a life-and-death situation like before.

Which, just like always, he manipulated them to have.

He could've summoned Unlimited Blade Works right after the _Argo_ crash-landed onto Atlantis's borders, keeping everyone safe at the cost of great magical power. However, that price was worth it to pay in retrospect, as Poseidon would be no different than a depowered god in his Reality Marble, and Goetia would've faced the same restrictions as his 'sister'.

But no. As always. Everything which could go wrong almost did, with only Hecate's arrival reverting that situation into something salvageable.

Despite his ability and confidence to restore Medea and Circe's injuries if he overclocked Avalon, there's no telling what curses could be placed on their body to halt their recovery. The Fifth Magic was the best option in this case, as it reverted their state into the past where 'it never happened'. Still, that's not even its main powers, but simply the most suitable derivation to heal a person's wounds, fatal or not… or even death.

Shaking his head internally, he could only work harder from now on to atone for his mistakes – a sentence he always preached towards his allies and opponents, including whose lives he's about to take, so it'd be hypocritical of him not to follow his own advice. Just need to keep on improving, keep on striving for perfection, no matter how idealistic and naïve that sounded.

So that everyone could live and achieve the happy endings they deserved.

* * *

"Aunt! Aunt! AUNT!" Molpadia ran and charged at her white-haired aunt, Princess Penthesilea, who smiled thinly and caught her with her belly when the little runt wanted to head-butt her toned stomach. "Look at my hair!"

"Your hair… is red?"

Only noticing it now, as she was distracted by her own thoughts earlier, the little child was right. Beforehand, she was born with auburn tips on her mostly-black hair, inherited from her mother. Now, though, it's more of a balanced two-toned shade, as half of its length was dark copper, with its end bright red like flames.

"Isn't it cool?! Hahaha! Is this a sign I can help you now?!" Molpadia boisterously laughed, trying to playfully grasp Penthesilea's white pigtails on the sides of her jaws. "I've been training hard! Umu!"

Patting her head, the princess hefted the little girl over her inner arms, up to eye level. "Well, maybe we should ask your mother first. Much as I enjoy seeing you cry during training, we need to tell her about this, nonetheless."

"Boo!" She pouted cutely, before hugging Penthesilea's neck and nuzzling her head into her aunt's neck. "She's been busy lately, so she won't have time for us! Let's just go!"

She was only answered with a muted chuckle, her aunt's hand calmingly patting her back and walking off.

Indeed, ever since they visited the wedding 'Uncle Shirō' and that beautiful green-haired woman – Oh, how Molpadia wished to become a princess as elegant as her! – her mother had been rather distant. Their usual time together had been reduced to meal times, when she's not even engaging Molpaida in her childish discussions. It's her aunt who mostly replied with some quips, who in turn got more talkative compared to before.

The latter was also her main trainer, and though there were times she hated Penthesilea for the harsh schedule she'd set for Molpadia, the little child understood deep down it's the way she, and all Amazons, showed care for the latter. All they wanted was for the next generation to be able to survive better in this harsh world, improving on the previous generation's experiences.

Well, not that her mother seemed to care anymore…

Soon, though, Penthesilea's steps rocked Molpadia to sleep – her previous study session with several temple sages having sapped her concentration – but she continued onwards to her destination: the living quarters.

Mostly, she wanted to admonish Hippolyta for dumping all her child-rearing responsibility to her and her assistants. Initially, she went along with the motions – after all, Hippolyta was the queen, and her work was more important than catering to every single one of Molpadia's whims. No matter how well-mannered the latter was, she _was _a child, and one who deserved all the attention and love of her elders.

Before, they split the tasks evenly between all related parties. However, lately, Molpadia's comment regarding her mother had become truer and truer… due to a reason all of Amazon easily guessed, if they knew of the child's true heritage.

No matter how much Hippolyta wanted to deny it against Penthesilea's occasional accusatory glare, she was deeply affected by the wedding. It's got to the point of outright lying to the goddess Hera, which the younger sister heard of only after they returned to Amazon, much to her displeasure. It didn't matter they're Ares's favored descendants and tribe or not – anger the Queen of the Gods, and nothing good would come out of it.

She had no idea how much her thought was true, since she didn't know of Herakles's alternate fate in another timeline.

Having reached Molpadia's quarters – lavishly equipped as per Penthesilea's request, against Hippolyta's insistence – she tucked her lovely niece in her bed for her afternoon nap.

'_Perhaps I'm spoiling her too much in turn…?'_

Her internal question was hard to answer. All her life, she and her sister lived through harsh training and experiences, all to make the best warrior who could eclipse their predecessors. Having this done over generations and generations made Amazon the feared race they were now, but the two sisters decided it's time to introduce more positive elements into every person's development, in order to bring out their potential more when negative remarks could go no further.

The very same elements they're denied of when they're children, they tried to give it to Molpadia. At the very least, she'd be the first prototype and proof whether their method was successful or not. Penthesilea dearly wished her niece would be able to display the same happy expression Princess Atalanta did during her wedding, unlike Hippolyta and the queens before her.

Now, that's a future worth aspiring towards.

With slumped shoulders, she left to meet up with Hippolyta to discuss state matters. Despite disliking it, now wasn't the time to bring up this issue – or scold her sister harshly, for that matter. New developments around their country had arisen, and the latter was swamped with administrative work, more so than her own militaristic responsibilities.

Atlantis had fallen.

Now, would Amazon be the next?

A vision of Hippolyta lying in a pool of her own blood, with Lord Jason standing nearby holding a dripping wet blade, haunted her nightmares in the past several days.

She could only pray to her divine ancestor it wouldn't come true.

If so, then… she'd lay her life down before her sister's own could fade away.

* * *

This was a momentous occasion in Greece history, Pelias thought.

For the first time, three kings from faraway city-states convened together using cutting-edge Magecraft, enabling them to see and hear each other's figures from their respective offices without stepping one foot out of their own palaces.

And they're not low-level rulers, either. He himself lorded over Iolchos, one of the most prosperous port cities of Western Greece, with calm bays and warm climate, enabling ships to dock even during winter. The only negative thing he's been pushing to fix was the inefficiency in regards of seafood procurement, sale, and distribution, since its distance from actual open-ocean fishing spots was relatively far. Therefore, many third-parties were able to hike up the prices before their products could be sold in Iolchos, no matter how much Pelias tried his best to streamline the process.

It'd be a much better day, if his nephew didn't go out and earned another great reputation to himself.

Oh, after the supposedly-'secret' wedding spread across the nations – no doubt the work of some sort of special forces loyal to that young man – the news of Atlantis's destruction was another bombshell Pelias didn't need.

In fact, a gigantic hole appearing right in the middle of a vast ocean, where no ship was scheduled to travel there, shouldn't be so publicly known just a few days after the fact. The whirlpool, according to his own sources, was large enough to swallow several city-states, no doubt as a result of a sudden void appearing near the bottom of the ocean, pulling in ungodly amount of seawater in to replace the loss. However, it didn't impact any of the shoreline villages, with none of them reporting sudden drop in sea level or mini-tsunamis appearing.

Therefore, Jason _must_ have a hand in this. He must! There's no other logical explanation for this!

Pelias had checked, multiple times, whether his own information network was compromised or not. All of them proved innocent, but it didn't clear his suspicions. The opposite, really – Jason must be more dangerous than he thought…!

'_I have to eliminate him as soon as possible!'_

Whether collateral damage would occur didn't matter. For his future, for the Iolchos he dreamt of, Jason must perish. Immediately. Preferably along with all those he held dear – there's no point in inviting revenge, wasn't there?

Even if he had to declare war against the entire world for it to succeed.

Fortunately, though, he's not alone in this.

The other two faces in the virtual screen greeted him with somber faces, no doubt having heard of the news Pelias himself just acquired.

"King Æëtes of Colchis. King Iasus of Arcadia. A pleasure to greet you all with this one-of-a-kind method, the first of its kind. It should be a cause for celebration… if not for current events unfolding as they are." Pelias hunched forward, presenting himself more seriously against the other two party. "I trust you have all of your pertaining information to share? If so, then allow me to start."

The other two men – one clad in rare beast skin, one suave and delicate – voiced their agreement, giving the figurative floor to the ruler of Iolchos.

"The position of the ruler of the ocean has disappeared, along with the destruction of Atlantis," he began. "As we all know, that city-state itself is the symbol of Poseidon, and perhaps can be said represents his physical and spiritual self. In it, he's invincible… But a party has invaded it and destroyed it.

"It's not an exaggeration to say _Poseidon is dead_."

Normally, such news would be replied with accusations of blasphemy, shocked silence, or a dismissive laughter. However, the other two rulers simply stared with a knowing gaze, letting Pelias to speak further. "Then I motion to summon divine punishment upon Jason of Iolchos."

Æëtes raised one hand, adding, "Perhaps you two haven't heard of this, but… Hecate's power is declining rapidly to the point of disappearing. My priests and priestesses are now in panic, which I presume is due to her life being in danger. Whether these two incidents are connected or not, there's no doubt from my side she favors that nephew of yours, Pelias. Right now, his backing is weak."

The other party nodded satisfactorily, before turning to address the third member of the meeting. "What about you, Iasus? Do you agree with my proposal?"

"Not only agree… I already have a solution prepared," Iasus said with his gruff voice.

His kingdom laid in the tropical paradise of Arcadia, meaning his body, despite living the luxuries of a king, was comfortably exposed to the elements. It's his daughter who's the aberration – receiving no care whatsoever, she grew up to be so naturally beautiful and enchanting without even trying. Her father was more typical of an Arcadian – tanned skin, sculpted and roughened edges – forged through a living environment so close to nature.

"His divine punishment is ready."

Pelias and Æëtes sat up straighter, before the latter carefully inquired, "We appreciate your proactiveness… but can you please elaborate on it?"

The smile coming back from the Arcadian ruler sent chills down their spines, despite their willingness to commit atrocious and pragmatic acts the moment they decided to convene in this manner.

"A divine boar has arrived, courtesy from Olympus. Aim it at him and his surroundings, and there's no doubt he'll rise up to protect them… only to fall in the process," Iasus spoke. "Of its prowess… I am convinced enough to bring it up in our meeting. Is there any more reason to deliberate?"

While he's quite convinced, Pelias still debated, "That man is strong. No ordinary divine-possessed beasts will be able to harm him, much less kill him. Going with what information I have… Poseidon perished under his hands. Do you think your method is stronger than the God of [Ocean] himself in his own territory?"

"Naturally not. I'm saying this because I expect you all have prepared things from your own as well. If not, then you are simply not as competent as you think," he bluntly shot back, in a manner eerily reminiscent of his daughter's mannerism. "Or am I wrong?"

Æëtes shrugged, lifting both palms in a gesture of surrender. "You got me. I have a dragon, ready to deploy at any time."

Rather surprised, Pelias praised, "Those two are certainly excellent tools, either together or by their own. And… you are correct, Iasus. I too have something prepared, though not a Phantasmal Species like you."

"Don't tell me… a human? Demigod, perhaps?" Iasus inquired, but his rude arrogance from earlier was left behind. Size wasn't everything, and Conceptual Weight was the only important thing to consider. A hero, demigod, or even an unknown mercenary could very well be more effective in doing certain tasks compared to out-of-control demonic beasts. "An assassin, then, surely?"

"You've hit the nail on the head."

The three of them chuckled together, admiring their synchronicity despite having not personally met before.

As they talked through the rest of their plans, no one noticed three squirming parasites moving across their back, from their brain to their groin, growing larger and more powerful by the second.

* * *

\- Holy Grail detected.

Despite its close connection to humanity, Alaya couldn't just teleport and manifest wherever it willed. For instance, it's able to communicate directly with Pandora, despite her obvious layers upon layers of confinement, due to the fact she's its former Heroic Vessel, carrying parts of it at some level in her existence. It's similar with SHIRŌ, though its deal with him was more mutual, having decided to converse whenever he required its presence, not the other way around.

As the first 'completed' Heroic Vessel, it's at least a luxury it could afford to grant him.

Despite having many potential candidates, nominating them, and performing its procedures as perfectly as possible, there were too many failures to be acceptable. Using former Counter Guardians guaranteed nothing, as EMIYA's colleagues could attest, as only SHIRŌ successfully ascended to become a Heroic Vessel. Going through other parallel realities and dimensions to scour for potential candidates also returned very little, at a large cost.

All it resulted in was two further 'completed' Heroic Vessel, compared to the failed ones. That's not to say the latter was immediately discarded, as they certainly had their uses – for instance, to tackle lesser strategically important crossroads in the timeline, or deploying them to gather precious data through similarly-simulated realities in pruned timelines, in order to prepare its most reliable Heroic Vessels there and guarantee the highest probability of success.

However, there were occasions where those failed projects didn't get reused and become their successor's strength, like the First, but turned out like Pandora, the Second.

Such troublesome children, truly.

Did it fear her? Absolutely not; it had the utmost confidence in its Heroic Vessels, who could even deny Gaia's grasp of the World itself. That's why Pandora had been moving behind the scenes, as she knew perfectly well a direct confrontation wouldn't lead to the most optimum result for her.

There were items, however, which could significantly boost her strength, enough to contend with SHIRŌ and his ilk.

The Holy Grail was one of them. Containers of massive energy, enough to bend impossible ideals into real existence – humanity wasn't wrong to view it as a wish-granting omnipotent device. However, from Alaya's point of view, it's nothing more than a slightly larger, easier door to strength for those seeking it, and certainly not easy to control, much less master.

That said, there's every incentive to deny those like Pandora its power. Therefore, it must do its best to locate, safeguard, or wrestle it from the wrong hands.

Did it think its own was the 'right hands'? the answer was relative – as was everything. It could only steadfastly work and believe in its own conviction. To work for humanity's salvation, for its continuation and prosperity.

There's only a small problem, however. Certainly nothing which could SHIRŌ to lose sleep, no. it's something he _definitely _could overcome.

Just a simple matter of it being behind enemy lines. Very, _very_ far behind.

In fact, it laid in the depths of Colchis, where a dragon guarded it with its life.

The Golden Fleece of a Divine Beast-ranked winged ram.

Originally, it's nothing more than an aesthetically-pleasing thing to look at and desire. No historical canon mentioned its magical properties, or curses which might earn the attention of stronger beings. Its ancestry, when it's alive, was stellar, holding the Divinity from Poseidon and Helios. It's also incredibly intelligent, able to guide mortals through the hidden paths leading to Colchis.

But other abilities? None whatsoever. Therefore, once it died, its golden fleece was carefully treated and used as sacrifice at Ares's altar to appease him during one particular time, as Colchians worshiped multiple deities at the same time, giving their citizens freedom to do as they please so long as peace was maintained.

However, it's precisely due to SHIRŌ's existence that its power increased exponentially, transforming from a pretty item into a Holy Grail.

It all came from its pivotal role in the greatest epic of Ancient Greece, involving the lives and deaths of numerous heroes and their descendants. Acting as the 'lynchpin' of various fates, the knot in the threads of the Sisters of Fate, it's incidental transformation into something capable of changing [Fate] was solely due to SHIRŌ's Conceptual Weight. After all, if its original form could bring, develop, and change a completely normal mortal like Jason into a king, despite every ordeals his opponents threw at him, then this thing, surely, must be able to do the same with a Heroic Vessel.

Someone who's far, _far_ stronger required a far, _far_ more powerful object to earn a place in his life and play a part in his fate.

Thus, it transformed itself into a Holy Grail, because the future, present, and past said so. It _must_ exist in that role; thus, it changed...

…into something Pandora could use to kill SHIRŌ.

But was that not the most basic requirement for a duel? For both parties to have at least some way to harm each other. If not, then it'd just become a one-sided slaughter in front of a bored crowd, where one single action was enough to decisively end the fight early without any drama.

Perhaps its effort to reclaim this object would be too late. After all, it could feel Pandora had begun moving herself – one who's living in their own era would always be faster than those living in a separate plane of dimension above it.

At the very least… it'd be interesting, wouldn't it?

No one could say Alaya didn't like fun.


	25. Percy & Andy's Fun-Fun Adventures! (III)

**Hello, everyone! Welcome to the latest chapter! First of all, shout-out to all the regular reviewers who didn't get their comments replied to or answered in the mailbag, such as PassiveNox, Stratos263, a particular anonymous guest who never puts their name in, and so on - surely I've also missed a few. I want to take this moment to show you guys my appreciation for your constant patronage, despite me rarely taking the opportunity to reply to you guys. Thank you very much, sincerely.  
**

**Now, I'm glad the previous several chapters went well. I'm always worried when writing a continuous scene through more than one chapter, which of course became an extended battle scene. For a breather, enjoy this omake!**

**Here's the mailbag:  
****superpierce: [the review's excerpt] Appreciate your concern and input - this is just one of the liberties I'm taking in my story. So I hope you can throw me some mercy there. Besides, I think I'm influenced too much by the fandom, who portrayed both Alaya and Gaia as sentient, somewhat emotional beings, so there's that.  
Trasgo Madaraz Artifex: ****Oh, I see. I don't play that game, so I didn't recognize the "Magic: The Gathering" phrase. For the analogy about Hecate, that is intentional. If that makes it awkward to read for you, then apologies. Thanks for the review.**

* * *

"D-Rank! We're finally D-Ranked! Drink! DDDRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKK!"

Aigle threw her blonde head backwards, shouting to the sky in the middle of the Adventurers' Guild's lobby. While certainly eye-catching, and somewhat embarrassing, judging from how her teammates and sisters deliberately went out of their way to avoid her, it's not an uncommon sight. In fact, the only other people bothered by the shout were the various receptionists, with this loud shout completely added onto their daily stress.

The other adventurers, meanwhile, were congratulating her – some energetically, some solely out of politeness – and a few males were even approaching her with the intention of having fun. Not the malicious sort, of course – they knew better than mess with even the most inexperienced of adventurers, lest they incurred the Guild's wrath – but purely ones seeking mutual physical pleasure. Aigle looked like a girl who'd appreciate such a thing, but Andromeda stepped in and glared them off, before dragging the nymph someplace else more appropriate.

Perseus, Erytheia, and Hesperia followed out of shame, not used to being the center of such myriad attention – yes, even the usually vain middle sibling. She sighed, saying, "At least we won't receive quests to clean up filth again… I don't want to remember that…"

"Agreed," Perseus gruffly answered, "Though I particularly remembered one of the pays was worth it. If it's _that one_, then the pocket money we get is enough."

Remembering _that incident_, Hesperia shivered, before shyly muttered, "W-Well… d-different preferences f-for different p-people…"

Her second sister flicked her white hair and scoffed, "Don't be like that, Hesperia. You certainly enjoyed it as much as he did, no? Why the sudden shyness?"

"N-No…! I…"

Andromeda merely shook her head at the conversation happening behind her with her three teammates, evaluating what they should do next to rank-up faster. At the very least, one had to be a C-Ranker to become a nationally-respected figure in a city-state. D-Rankers mostly boasted to their own family and colleagues, so it's a completely different class.

For once, she's glad Perseus was here, for he could seamlessly jibe casual words with the rest of the team, unlike the stiff Andromeda. She, as the team leader, felt the need to detach herself from the personal side of each of her teammate. She literally had no time to worry about it, with the need to organize quests, loots, equipment, sustenance, and so on… while also interacting with their superiors, seniors, and clients.

Busy, busy, busy. While it's hard, but it's a life she could be proud of, compared to the one she lived in the past as the Ethiopian princess.

To her, Perseus was a worthy team vice-leader, though she's not ready to announce that yet. Not personally – she'd recognize his achievements and skills as fast as anyone – but more for his and the three nymphs' sake. Their mental make-up, according to her, wouldn't be able to take the news well enough to ensure smooth operations by the time their next quest came around.

* * *

Her bronzed skin glistened healthily under the afternoon sun, with long shadows beginning to emerge from the buildings alongside them. It's a different style, different culture here in Crete, compared to the Guild's main branch in Mycenaea, or one of its largest branches in Athens. The isolated island, while quite advanced maritime-wise, developed its own separate way of life. The sun's warmth wasn't too stinging, enabling her to wear more covered clothes, basking her exotic beauty in its clear rays.

Perseus silently admired her from behind, though he knew his teammates well enough to be able to decently hide his gaze from them. Especially Erytheia – that girl's mouth was more vicious than a drake.

Instead, the two nymphs – as their oldest sister was still receiving an earful and restrain from their team leader – were seemingly distracted by enjoying the novel building and city construction around them. The island was blessed with plenty natural gorges, and the residents' houses took inspiration and mimicked the way the sun played with the various angles available from the outcropping, designing their own living space in a manner to utilize sunlight at particular times of the day.

It's somewhat similar to the cliffside-hugging construction of the Amazons, but applied on flatter and gentler land. Still, the various personalized interpretation meant the skyline varied greatly, casting various playful shadows across the streets, to the point of looking like living beings.

In fact, there's a local urban legend about how those shadows, during one specific time of the day, on one specific day in the month, in one specific month of the year, at one specific year in a multi-era cycle, that those served as a gateway to another plane of existence, where creatures steeped in Mysteries incomprehensible to humans lived.

When Perseus first heard it, he dismissed it as nonsensical, as it's one of the stories his mother often told him to scare him to bed. However, after meeting Sir Shirō and witnessing what he's capable of, it suddenly didn't sound too ridiculous, after all. Fortunately, there's a great chance he, as a normal human being – disregarding his weak divine blood – wouldn't live long enough for that to happen during his lifetime, anyway.

Still, the Cretans did a good job. Perhaps a more detailed description Andromeda could make, while her mind was preoccupied with restraining the hyperactive Aigle from running off into a random bar and getting picked up by a stranger, was how even the humblest normal man's house tried its best to emulate a natural rock structure. Of course, compared to the Amazons, whose buildings were literally made of the same material as their surroundings, and built right there as if carving into the cliffs themselves, the lack of extreme elevation changes in Crete meant it didn't quite achieve the same effect.

It took nothing away from their admiration for the architects around here. It's clearly far from Athens's geometrical constructions; Arcadia's curvaceous, natural lines; the Aegean Sea's archipelago's wide open and airy flat buildings; Colchis's luxury and glamor – at the very least, it allowed adventurers like them to enjoy the break from normality, and play around.

Though not as much as Aigle. _No one_ should play as much as her, period.

However, eventually, the blonde-haired nymph managed to convince the group to let loose in a while, bringing up their rank-up constantly as an excuse. Surprisingly, her earliest supporter was Hesperia, the one person who's absolutely weak to alcohol – the time she passed out from its vapors alone was still a worthy teasing material for the rest of the group.

The place they chose had a familiar name, too, to the point both Andromeda and Perseus sweat-dropped at the coincidence.

The Brown Bull. Yet another one of the 'Bull'-series establishments they frequented.

'_Did we miss a familial connection somewhere? Their owners are clearly related! I'm sure of it!'_ Both the leader and vice-leader rebuked the naming trend mentally. _'Or we're clearly being toyed with!'_

\- Creak…

The dinner crown hadn't arrived yet, so the door opened with an echoing sound, announcing their arrival to the clearly sleeping waitress near the register.

"F-Fwaahhh…!" She jumped awake as soon as she heard them come in, the warm day must've weighted her eyelids into drowsiness. "W-Welcome…"

Despite her doing her best to clean herself up, her presentation wasn't quite as convincing when she's yawning halfway through, and hidden another yawn right after that. However, she's quite skilled, maneuvering her way through the motions, even as Erytheia deliberately asked her difficult, pointed questions no waitress should be able to answer comfortably or freely, without any input from the owner.

It meant one of two things: either this plain girl was far smarter than she let on, or she's related to the owner.

No matter which one she was, the group was convinced they'd get a proper answer from this branch of the 'Bull'-series shop.

"Tell me, why is the name of your shop 'brown'? I think there are plenty more attractive colors to choose from if you want to attract more customers," Andromeda began, using a lighter tone to avoid offending anyone listening in. Which, perhaps, she already did, the moment her curiosity got the better of her.

"Ah… that one? Young misses and master, you must be from overseas!" She chirped, writing down Aigle's ridiculous amount of orders at the same time. "We, Cretans, respect the Divine Beast watching over our land, the Cretan Bull! It's a chthonic creature, symbolizing our closeness with the [Earth] Element. Thus, the color which represents it the best is 'brown'."

"OOOHHHHHH!" Aigle, easily swayed by stories like this, exclaimed loudly. Fortunately, the waitress seemed used to dealing with rowdy customers like her, so the group wasn't as embarrassed as they did in the Guild. "Then let's have bull to eat! Let us have bulls!"

* * *

Bull meat, when cooked properly, was quite the delicacy. Certainly, it's not for everyone – as Erytheia found out when her nose immediately cringed the moment the meal was carried over – but its gamey scent and flavor, as well as unique texture, served those who worked hard in the field very well, such as adventurers like them.

A skilled chef would've been able to butcher the entire animal without mixing up the edible meat with the tough tendons. Not that the latter was completely useless – there's plenty of recipes using them as stock ingredients – but in a well-known establishment, using lesser-known cuts would've lowered their reputation, as customers would always flock towards what they perceived as 'high grade', despite holding potentially less flavors.

Not that they knew it at the time, but the recipes in 'Brown Bull' had been looked over and modified by Sir Shirō, when he coincidentally spent time there with his very picky then-fiancée. Because placating her taste could potentially be life-threatening for normal cooks, he took matters into his own hands and advised the workers there regarding how to elevate their own standards. While it meant a lot of back-breaking work, the increase in reputation they gained from that experience allowed them to expand their business to the level of today.

Regarding whether they're related to another similar establishment in Mycenae… the group never got a proper answer, much to Andromeda's frustrations. Such was the mysteries of life – there's always one which was unexplainable to proper logic.

Hesperia was splayed across Perseus's back. The sisters had grown to be more comfortable around the man as they spent more time together, though it's only to the point they're seeing him as a talking, intelligent pack mule who's suitable to be around them. While not exactly the same, Andromeda too shared their level of intimacy, though from her side, it's more in regards to trust – a professionalism forged through countless life-and-death battles side-by-side, back-to-back.

Well, as much as cleaning sewers and battling giant rat monsters counted as those monikers, by the way.

There's only one day where it's not particularly hateful, when they're hired to process and safely depose of a recently-deceased group of corpses. King Augeas of Elis had a large, wasteful party, and slaughtered several of his cattle. Because they're divinely healthy and immortal, their carcasses actually produced a sweet-smelling scent, almost intoxicating for the enhanced senses of the nymph triplets.

That's why it's so embarrassing for them – even Hesperia, who held the least enmity towards male humans in general, disliked her own self who threw her body all over Perseus that day. It's only Andromeda's swift decision-making and 'tough love' which allowed the three of them to withhold their dignities.

The young man himself was mostly confused… and simply shocked, really, to see their personalities flipped at an instant. It's very different when they're drunk, because the glands and blood of the cattle emitted pheromones far different in composition than alcohol – more similar to hallucinogenic drugs than alcohol's volatile compounds. It's also apparent it only affected certain races, as the human Andromeda and Perseus were mostly fine, bar a slight dizziness from inhaling the supposedly-putrid fumes.

Did it smell so badly for those with inhuman blood? Perhaps that's why King Augeas hired adventurers to dispose of the remains, instead of ordering his own staffs to do it. While he had very little divine ancestry, if none at all, his connections with Olympus ran deep, which granted him the highest quality variant for his first generation cattle in the first place. His workers, naturally, were selected through a strict process of elimination, and as per the course for royalties, he's biased for those who had exotic bloods, slowly but surely eliminating any presence of pure humanity in his castle.

Andromeda hesitated to call him out on that behind his back, since his reputation as an administrator for the state was quite stellar. Sure, he's not perfect, but no one was – and he's far better than most rulers she knew of. Being a horrible human being and an adept king didn't need to be in opposition to each other; case in point was Sir Shirō's uncle, whose deeds to claim the throne had become infamous and caused signs of unrest lately, but when viewed objectively, Andromeda had nothing to criticize in regards of his way of ruling, expanding, and developing his lands.

Of course, she'd prefer it if Sir Shirō took his birthright, as did most of the inhabitants of Iolchos. However, a rebellion or civil unrest was the worst way to do it, which was the reason she logically came to when thinking why the S-Ranker still hadn't done so, even after he'd amassed enough riches, power, and influence to do so.

* * *

After a long walk, they finally arrived at their temporary lodging. Unlike a normal, multi-story inn, their current living space was a simple seaside shack, located near the shores. Because of Crete's lush, cliff-filled central hills, it's forbidden to develop housings in that area, in an effort to conserve nature and its inhabitant spirits and other creatures. Therefore, most commercial buildings, such as the Adventurers' Guild's branch, were closer to the ocean.

Naturally, this brought about its own challenge. Being closer to the sea meant constant exposure to the salty sea breeze, making material choice important to resist corrosion. The land underneath was also looser, because of the encroaching sea and the sand formed from it, increasing the difficulty of constructing taller buildings, unlike the more stable clay-based soil in Mainland Greece.

For Andromeda, the climate was closer to what she's used to at home, but the three nymph triplets and Perseus were struggling in their first days here. The sea breeze could be refreshing at first glance, but after a few days, it struck those unused to it to their bones, causing an unwell feeling. However, the four of them were talented individuals, and did their quests properly despite not being 100%. Fortunately, they got used to it before their rank-up quest was supposed to be taken, so they could tackle that at full strength.

Laying down the worn-down Aigle and Hesperia onto their beds, the rest of the still-sober teammates convened for an informal meeting.

"Haahhh… Why am I so tired on a relaxing day out…" Andromeda complained, not bothering to maintain her formal manner of speaking as a team leader. "These two are… really…"

Both Erytheia and Perseus coyly smiled at her continuous complaints. Initially, they felt rather distant to her due to her insistence of acting like a 'proper leader', but it seemed after a talk with the Guild Master himself, she mellowed out considerably. While they still didn't share the same shameless intimacy the three sisters exhibited with each other, at the very least, this kind of scene was getting more and more common, as their relationship as teammates grew closer and the tension dissolved.

Sure, they had their differences. Perseus was the 'normal baseline', being a regular human being with his base desires and weak tolerances to sins. Andromeda strived to become the 'ideal person' ever since she's disgusted with how her family dealt with things, as well as after meeting her idol, Sir Shirō. The three nymphs viewed the world through their unique inhuman perspective, seeing them as nothing more than intelligent animals who they sometime traded with, as well as mated whenever necessary.

Erytheia was perhaps the most unusual among them, despite her annoying personality, because she kept most men at a distance intentionally. Aigle and Hesperia, disregarding their opposing demeanor, were truer to their own natures, though they displayed it in vastly different manners. The outgoing Aigle was perhaps closer to the sultry nymphs portrayed in seamen's tales, and Hesperia's timid attitude always tugged at men's hearts inadvertently – and the two of them weren't particularly averse when approached by men.

Therefore, lately, the only man she's spending any considerable amount of time around was Perseus… and she didn't know what to feel about that.

At first, Sir Shirō lambasting of his mindset over Medusa struck a deep impression in her mind about him. To her, he's exactly what the S-Ranker described him as: a lazy, fortunate, foolishly courageous young man who just did whatever other people told him to because it happened to coincide with his goals, without thinking of the repercussions. However, this man in front of her had changed greatly since then, to the point even she would agree with Andromeda's objective assessment of his improvements.

He himself had gotten much more contemplative in his words and actions, often silently and proactively covering whatever Andromeda was trying to tell him next, without prior confirmation. While not an indication of intelligence, it's at least pointing to the steps he'd made to work with his teammates more, synchronizing his breathing with the four women around him to mimic mind-reading during dangerous situations.

"I've got to give it to you two, though. Never expected you had that kind of alcohol tolerance…" Perseus slovenly replied, splaying back onto the thin mattress laid on the floor. "I'm feeling rather unwell after all those drinking…"

The coolness of the ground permeated through the liner he's lying on, sobering him somewhat, despite still retaining a slight buzz from all that drinking. Their seaside shack was simply, but well-made, allowing just the right amount of the outside elements to blend into its interior and maintain a good internal climate. It's cool whenever the sun's shining bright, and warm whenever the moon peaked in the sky – a good balance, and money well-spent.

Initially, the group was lightly pissed off at the seemingly blatant rip-off. This small shack, barely enough for the five of them to sleep shoulder-to-shoulder, cost just as much as two generous double rooms in a middle-class inn in Mainland Greece. However, back then, they were in a rush, and therefore grumpily decided to rent this place and badmouth the owner later in the Guild. However, after a few days, they quite enjoyed the place – and while their conclusion of this place being overpriced still hadn't disappeared, they're more accepting of the situation – though the girls were slightly uncomfortable being so close to Perseus all the time.

Compared to their usual establishments, where Perseus was usually separated on another bed – and sometimes even another room, whenever they had the money to splurge – they had to sleep while brushing shoulders and arms with him. Even if they started liking him more, his usual arrogant face turned them off whenever the thought of getting intimate with him.

Not that he minded. It's far better than being admonished by an S-Ranker day after day, after all.

He's growing closer and closer to his goal – he could _feel_ it. Not that he thought of himself as a particularly instinctive person, who would yell out, "…in my bones!" all the time, but he felt close to that feeling, whatever that was.

To be a person strong enough in all aspects to take his mother back from the men who'd use and abuse her, just like Sir Shirō. That caliber of a man would be able to protect any number of people he desired, whether it's just a small nucleus, a mountain-load of people… or even the entire world.

Loathe must he admit it, but that experience was perhaps the best thing which could've happened to him. No matter how the two men held distaste to each other, at the very least, Perseus wished to become a person Sir Shirō would and could respect. He had no need for acknowledgement or friendship from the S-Ranker – those two required far more things done from Perseus's side – but 'respect' and 'trust' were enough. No other individual in the world could give the same level of satisfaction he'd receive if Sir Shirō actually gave him those two attributes, not even his mother.

However, Andromeda did come at a close second… followed by Guild Master Chiron, he surmised.

Not that he had any special feelings for that brash woman. No way. It's simply looking from the viewpoint of her as his team leader, and recognition from her would raise his standing in the group greatly, removing most of the annoying harassment the girls were giving him unfairly all the time.

* * *

"Munya, munya, munya…" Aigle murmured during her sleep, not even waking up when her youngest sister, Hesperia, was muffling loudly against her breast in an effort to simply breathe. "Mmnnn… hyah…"

However, one good, well-placed slap on her face – smack dab on her cheek – was able to do the trick.

\- PAAA!

"W-What was that for?!" She yelled, right after her head hit the ground beside her bed first. Curiously, Hesperia didn't get pulled along with her, so only the blonde-haired nymph ended up rubbing her swollen cheek. "I… I-I was having a g-good dream! I was eating-"

"I don't care what you're eating in your dreams!" Andromeda bellowed. "The Guild's summoned us for an emergency meeting! Hurry up and prepare! You reek of alcohol!"

Aigle could see the tips of Hesperia's crimson hair bobbing in agreement, before escaping from the eldest nymph's outburst of anger. "Come back here, my pillow!"

Erytheia could only shake her head in frustration, as she waited for her rowdy sisters near the main door, along with Perseus. Both of them were fully-equipped with their choice of gears – now significantly more robust and functional, though still lacking in ornamental details. The sets were bought with the money they saved from their quests, since they had nothing else to invest them to. Going up into D-Rank would mean more lucrative contracts, and even more money – still, Andromeda kept a tight leash on their collective wallets, much to the white-haired nymph's annoyance.

She wanted to shop, damn it!

However, after these past few months, she did recognize what's important for her future life, as well as her prospects of living a comfortable dream later on – which might or might not involve a man. Therefore, she'd grit her teeth for now… until their group became mature enough for her to be able to leave without any guilt.

Soon, Andromeda arrived with even more complete tools and equipment, to the point she looked ready to go to war. The things she's wearing were practically their entire armory, bar the spares, creating a comical one-woman army who's laden with bags and cloth-covered weapons.

It took everything inside Erytheia and Perseus not to laugh out loud… but their shifting eyes told Andromeda everything she needed to know.

"What?! Laugh all you want, you idiots!" She hollered, before adorably trying to fit everything through the door they're leaning on. "H-Help me, you fools!"

* * *

"Hmph!"

"L-Leader, please don't be s-so mad…" Hesperia meekly persuaded the bronze-skinned woman, who threw her face to one side the moment they came together. "I-I'm sure Sister a-and Perseus have a good reason…"

Given they're currently renting a carriage, being cramped together was inevitable. Still, it made for an uncomfortable ride, despite how used they got to each other's close proximity, because Andromeda still insisted on wearing absolutely _everything_, instead of just the essentials and packing the rest. Hard metallic nubs and edges were rubbing against her comrades' body everywhere, earning her several unsavory gazes… all of which she returned full-force, much to the redhead's consternation, who's trying to maintain the fragile peace.

They'd been summoned using a method specifically reserved for urgent emergencies. Having read up the history of the Adventurers' Guild, there's very few occasions when this method was used – a prime example would be the last _Titanomakhia_. After that, it's mostly international wars, where major city-states participated to the point their patron deities got personally involved as well.

Hesperia desperately warned more and more minor incidents warranted this kind of signal lately, because what the Guild was aiming for wasn't reactionary, but preventive. Its tardiness in acting taught it harsh lessons, where unnecessary deaths occurred in droves simply because they couldn't get to a unanimous decision fast enough. It's understandable back then, because the newly-established Guild couldn't be seen as casting away its hard-earned neutrality, but Chiron saw it only harmed the people it's supposed to help, so he quickly shifted directions, damning whoever disagreed with the 'right things to do'.

However, Andromeda didn't listen, and seemingly had her blood burnt, enthusiastically preparing for some sort of fierce, all-out battle. It's not even in fashion nowadays, with disputes mostly settled through individual quests and duels instead of city-wide bloodshed. Naturally, the red-headed nymph tried her best to explain this to her team leader too, but perhaps she's too timid to forcefully push her point, leading to this situation.

The carriage they rented was owned by a middle-aged female basket weaver, who so happened was going to the direction of the Guild as well… and she, too, laughed internally at how high-strung Andromeda was.

What's the worst which could happen in this tiny little fishing hamlet of theirs? Even if Crete's growth meant that self-deprecating description was no longer apt, the dweller's mentality stayed the same hard-working, compact, united group like their ancestors. War? Catastrophe? Monster outbreak? Those things were so far and few in between their own history barely even recorded them anymore, as they lived in peace and quiet for generations.

Still, it's not often she saw rookie adventurers staying this long at one place. Usually, because of their remote location and independent attitude, Crete didn't have a great density of paid workers, whether it's mercenaries or adventurers. Besides, as she outlined mentally previously, there's nothing much happening in this place bar several petty troubles. She's grateful for them, though – at the very least, the group provided her good entertainment during her regular city deliveries.

* * *

As predicted, the staff on duty at Crete's Adventurers' Guild's branch told Andromeda to strip most of what she's _wielding_ – not even wearing – off. The only relief for her was the lack of laughter among the adventurers who'd gathered in regards to her appearance, such was the seriousness permeating the room.

\- CLANG! BANG! BOOM! CLINK! CRASH!

Perseus had gone ahead and reserved a good, spacious corner for them to lay down their things and stand around… only to face-palm when Andromeda's enormous baggage jingle this way and that, knocking people and things to the side, before loudly crashing down near his feet, earning his group some unwelcoming glares from the more experienced adventurers.

Just as Hesperia predicted, most who came simply carried their most trusted set of equipment – one main weapon, half-a-set of armor – instead of Andromeda's overkill way of preparing. She could feel their querying gazes focused on them – _'Just who're these amateurs, by the way?'_ – causing her to shrink from the attention. Perseus clapped her back to try to bring her confidence up, but it only made it worse, because his unfriendly general expression earned even more negative energy from their peers.

"E-Er…" She stuttered weakly, but was saved when the Guild's representative coughed loudly to gather their attention, before the briefing began.

The person leading it was a pretty young female human, her brown hair tied back into a tidy and intricate bun. Despite her slender frame, one could feel her experience in dealing with difficult characters through her career from her demeanor. Standing over a raised platform, she began, her voice level and confident, "Greetings, everyone. I assume you all know the importance of the urgent mass summon, but I am here to tell you first: There will be no war on the horizon."

Her words caused Andromeda to physically deflate, her earlier enthusiasm evaporating by the second under Aigle's scathing gaze. If that's true, then she could've slept for five more minutes! And that's good!

"…because we will act in order to prevent it. No pressure!" She smiled beatifically, though the veteran crowd immediately responded with flat stares all-round. Coughing awkwardly once more, she continued, "Atlantis has fallen."

"WWWWHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTT?!"

This time, she garnered the response she desired from the crowd, so she smiled pleasingly.

"Yes. Reports from the mainland had just arrived earlier. Regarding who the culprit was in this conflict, causing one of the _poleis _of the Olympians to fall, we from the Adventurers' Guild hereby announce a mass quest," the female speaker informed. "As there's a potential chance of an incoming tsunami, we will hire all of you here, as well as those not present, to assist in the Cretans' evacuation and help bolster shoreline defenses. After this, my colleagues would separate all of you into several groups; please follow their instruction to the letter! Time is of the essence!"

Before Andromeda and her party could even comprehend the consequences of what'd been transpiring, they were ushered into a small group who circled a relatively large table. These were dotted across the main hall as meeting places for the other teams, where duties were already being distributed.

"Sir Shirō…" Perseus muttered, just low enough that only his teammates were able to hear it.

When they did, they internally agreed with his assessment. There's no one they'd met – or even _knew_ – who could bring about such world-changing event simply by existing. Not that they knew of his true identity, but that's the general sense they got from the S-Ranker… or _any_ S-Ranker in general, to the point they assumed that's one of the requirements to graduate beyond A-Rank.

Perseus's low volume was simply due to the lack of evidence they had. He's quite sure he's correct – as he thought of everything he did lately – and he's also sure the Guild had the proper culprit identified already. Whether they acted upon that individual or group wasn't any of Andromeda's or Perseus's business, as they're still D-Rankers. Not even a party consisting of A-Rankers could realistically challenge politically – such was the clout Jason of Iolchos had with the Guild, with the Guild Master himself seemingly covering for his every move.

Of course, these were all officially mere speculation. Those powerful men were far too clever and delicate in what they did – even Herakles! – to leave any compromising evidence of all kinds for inferior people like them to take advantage of. Even if there were those things… well, let's just say the people doing the latter no longer existed on this world.

Just like he thought before, it wasn't his place to accuse that redhead of anything. Sir Shirō's simply the first name who popped up. It could even be anyone – heck, perhaps the next _makhia _was already starting right now, and the Guild was covering for it to keep panic under control! Anything could happen, and anyone could do anything – this was the world they're living in right now.

To have the qualifications to survive and give those around him a happy life, Perseus had to get stronger. That's the main reason behind his drive to better himself, one step at a time. Not recognition from his superiors (who included Andromeda), not respect from the S-Rankers (whom he _completely_ didn't admire… _at all_), not even the bounties he could accept whenever he did acquire said strength.

However, right now, with these people around him, it's not the occasion to suddenly gush his heart's true intentions outwards. They had a job to do.

Their handler from the Guild was the previous main speaker, who already had a seriously grim expression on her face as she spread some documents around. A few adventurers had already started to leave, rushing to their spots to safeguard the civilians against the incoming natural disaster. While still unconfirmed it'd happen, even the smallest chance warranted a great deal of caution – at the very least, this emergency summon Andromeda was so hyped up about was a proper way to do it.

However, Perseus wasn't sure he's liking their designated handler. There's nothing personal about it – he'd long learned the hard way not to judge a person with a look or from hearsay – and she's actually quite beautiful, only slightly below the level of his comrades. That said, it's an unfair barometer to judge women's appearances, since Andromeda's a nationally-recognized beauty in her home country (a moniker she despised), and the nymph triplets were… well, _nymphs_ – not human like their current task handler.

There's only two reasons he could think of them specifically being assigned to this woman. Well, three, to be honest – the first one was a technicality, which meant they're only treated this way because she was the first receptionist they met during their first quests here. This would imply favoritism, and she didn't look like a professional who'd grant that to a practically rookie party she'd just met.

Secondly, _someone else_ recommended them to this group, which meant their achievements and latent potential were finally getting recognized!

'_Yeah, right…'_

He pessimistically blew that thought of as being unlikely. Somebody who had the clout to influence Guild decisions regarding them needed one thing only: being very closely acquainted with them, either positively or negatively… which didn't bring up anybody's face in his mind. Sure, Sir Shirō could've done something, but if Perseus wanted to be consistent with his quiet accusation, there's no way that S-Ranker had the opportunity to do this while destroying Atlantis at the same time.

Thirdly, and the most likely one… Well, he's not even sure he wanted to speak this out loud, for fear it'd become true.

They're just unlucky, and were picked to do a job which would be a total _bitch_ to do.

Judging how his luck usually transpired, it sounded like the right conclusion.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Erytheia coming to the same conclusion, with dread descending upon her posture. Andromeda's much too shocked and shaken to actually think of anything from her embarrassing stunt earlier, and Hesperia was busy trying to make sure Aigle didn't just insult the handler straight to her face by being true to her brutally honest attitude.

They made eye contact, and silently shook hands in agreement in order to find the quickest way out of this situation. Not that they loathed the job description announced earlier, far from it – saving civilians were always one of the better dream jobs in their minds, no matter what form it took – but for something they're being paid far too little, and given far less time to prepare… this was a risky proposition.

Actually, their pay had just increased, as their handler spoke to them.

The reason being… they _were_ being sent to do a bitch job, after all.

"Do you understand? I don't need verbal confirmation – just go!" She shoved several rolls of parchment into Erytheia's hands, before shoving Andromeda's prone form into Perseus's side, not even focusing on them anymore. "Now, next team… You'll be stationed near the foothills…"

* * *

Keeping everyone from taking everyone else's treasures and loots were much harder than they thought.

Still, Andromeda – now having recovered from her stupor, and with her overwhelming amount of equipment still in a bundle around her back – found a quick solution to this problem, as always. That's a trait her comrades appreciated the most, and the reason she was unanimously voted as team leader.

Violence. That's the answer.

Anyone stepping out of line in an evacuation attempt, when they're racing against time and an incoming tsunami? Just punch them out cold and throw them at their colleagues. If they met further resistance? Punch them harder, and left them behind if there's more than one perpetrator. What if the display of violence froze an innocent group and hampered the mass's movements? Well, nothing a glint of sharp steel couldn't take care of!

'_Truly, I am a genius!'_ Andromeda sarcastically applauded herself, feeling disgusted for having to resort to such crude manner to keep things in order. How could anyone have the heart to commit petty crimes when their lives were under threat from a bigger danger? _'I swear, the next person's head will come off!'_

Hesperia was struggling to keep up, mainly because she insisted on making sure those they hit were alright before setting off. That act did win her a few fans here and there, but she didn't even have time to blush and stutter as usual – she had too much job to do, much like the rest of them. Aigle was surprisingly efficient; her loud voice and direct, animated body language easily commanding the villagers around, and her lackadaisical demeanor from the past few days nowhere to be found.

As they discussed beforehand, Perseus and Erytheia were working the hardest, at the very least to buy themselves the most time among the other groups around them who're tasked with generally the same thing. The faster they could get everyone into a safe place, the lesser a chance the Sisters of Fate could find a loophole somewhere to 'bless' them with a 'self-improvement challenge'. Of this, they had little doubt, having worked together for quite a while.

Therefore, they weren't even looking at the small details – their other comrades were capable enough to cover these things. What they're searching for was the tell-tale signs of something absolutely catastrophic brewing, right inside their blind spot. It could be anything – for example, there're many records of high-ranked Divine Beasts going on a rampage once a _polis_ was seriously damaged or destroyed, annihilating everything around them uncontrollably. Things like that couldn't be accounted for in the Guild's calculation, since their finite resources meant they had to prioritize the highest probability events and plan around those.

Thankfully, there's a volunteer from among the villagers who's quite skilled, despite being very young.

A short, wiry green-haired boy traced along their every step, fluttering back-and-forth in-between groups of adventurers as some sort of pseudo-messenger. His actions were silently viewed as extremely useful, as it allowed them to communicate far more efficiently than meeting directly face-to-face. However, their urgency meant Perseus didn't get a chance to ask the boy for his name – and he didn't think the boy wanted to give it out, either.

People's lives were at stake. There's no place for personal disagreements, especially if the other party still had their uses.

Besides, the boy mostly interacted with Hesperia, anyway. _'That's a good eye on that kid,'_ Perseus thought, because he felt he'd do the same thing himself. But what's most impressive was this decision being made in an instant, without knowing the personalities of every member of Perseus's team intimately… and by the gods, the boy was _fast_.

Crete's middle part was full of sharp cliffs and steep slopes. While their drops weren't high or deadly, it still posed a great challenge, especially with the civilians they're evacuating. And that's with people intimately knowledgeable about this place – Perseus dreaded if he had to lead large numbers of people into foreign lands, where no one had any idea what to do.

This kid… was clearly an outsider like them, but very energetic and lively. His steps were light, his body agile – to the point his entire frame seemingly contorted among the shrubberies and rocks and trees and people by virtue of pure _speed_. Hesperia was occasionally shocked at his sudden appearance, the logical part of her brain unable to fathom how any person – much less one as young as this boy – could traverse large distances so quickly on foot.

Seeing this, Andromeda had made up her mind to recruit him. No matter what it took. It didn't look impossible – the boy's behavior and clothes didn't look like nobles, who surely would be far more difficult to deal with than a normal household would, in regards to letting their son go on an adventure.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed that thought into the back of her mind at the moment. She had a job to do.

* * *

**Glossary Update!**

* * *

**K**

**Krís Tavros: Marathon Bull**  
** Rank: E**  
** Type: Support**  
** Range: 1**  
** Max. Targets: 1**

Nothing more than an unusually-attractive bull, enough to seduce any mortal woman to lie with it. Snow white and divine in appearance, it was originally reared in Poseidon's stables, as a catalyst for a sacrificial ritual. Because of its holiness, its first mortal owner actually hesitated in using and slaughtering it for the gods, starting a chain of events leading to Herakles being requested to tame the bull when it escaped.

After being re-domesticated, it copulated with the finest cows around Crete, fathering a strain of beef of the highest quality. Recognizing this blessing, the farmers in the area all highly treasured this strain and reared them with love and care exceeding those towards other humans. Raised under constant massages, feasts of wine and cooked grain, their meat were famed for their extreme marbling and sumptuous taste. However, a lesser-known secret read the true flavor was contained in the marrows instead.


	26. Temporary Thoughts

**Hey, everyone! Welcome to the latest chapter, as well as the (apparently) slower writing schedule. TBH, the only IRL things slowing me down this time were the distractions, instead of the responsibilities. They're pretty irresistible, so please pardon me for updating this after all this time. In the near future, things may slow down or speed up ****– I'll announce it to you in future ANs. There's also some sneak-peeks for HV-S01: RKR's rewrite somewhere in this story, along with OCs from other fandoms. Can you spot them?  
**

**Warning: Subtantial Character Sheet Update at the end of chapter.  
**

**Mailbag!  
****PanzerJ & superpierce: I was inspired by a fanart depicting a mature Atalanta cajoling a child Achilles. Also, like I mentioned before, the historical canonical and TYPE-MOON timeline will be distorted to fit the story I have.  
Mythic Imagination: [the reviews' excerpts] ****Thank you for the kind words. I'm still working on extending a fight scene beyond using what's going on behind the characters' minds. (...) ****The backlash will be awkward for sure, considering their feelings for him. They also may not know what Shirou's concerned about, though. (...) Hera's capture was foreshadowed in a chapter long, long ago, when she's safeguarding Eros's Authority and Divine Essence after Ars Notoria's defeat. Maybe I didn't make myself too clear by how I narrated that one. ****Past successful deployment, if not outright explained in a prequel, will be mostly glimpses and short sentences. Feel free to ask me and investigate deeper, though as per usual I'll reply in words which won't spoil things I want to put near the end of the story. An example of the former will be a direct shout-out to HV-S01: RKR, or to this story in HV-S03 later on.**

* * *

It had to admit, it's not often Alaya could get itself excited about anything in particular. Dangers to humanity's continued survival? Encroaching from Gaia and its Counter Force? Defiant Heroic Vessels and Counter Guardians?

Those were important things, yes, and potentially fatal to itself – but never quite gave it the 'excitement' its agents often spoke so fondly of from the time they're still alive as a normal human being. It tried to rationally break down that emotion into logical steps – after all, to interact better with its own Counter Force, it had to understand humanity rather than fundamentally force its own views regarding the universe, unlike Gaia. While it couldn't be said to be as successful as it liked, since empathizing too much would only hinder its goals and duties, it's an interesting thought experiment to have.

Only very few things could move it, and trigger its budding emotional core. Drawing from its Counter Guardians' and Heroic Vessels' memories helped tremendously with its learning capabilities, but it'd inherently decided not to invest too much energy into this act. It had its own distinct responsibilities and powers compared to Gaia and humanity – being a component of the former and born from the latter – so it should act accordingly. _Just _enough to play both sides optimally, and not more.

That's the meaning of its existence, and the backbone of its continuity.

Yes, but _these two_… were quite the unique things, weren't they?

In front of it, the static cores of Ars Goetia and Notoria floated silently, awaiting and receiving whatever it had in mind for the two of them.

It's not often it came face-to-face with its creation's… _creations_. As was always the case, these things reflected the thoughts and emotions of their creators, inadvertently or not. Alaya would like to think it left a dignified impression on its Heroic Vessels, completed or not. As for Pandora… well, that girl had always been a problem child, anyways.

She was supposed to be the first human woman – a _perfect _existence, unburdened by the toils and tribulations a mortal must face. The Greek pantheon supported this initiative 'suggested' by Zeus, who in turn handed her designs to Hephaestus. And that's not to say only two deities had a hand in her birth too – a large part of the pantheon contributed, either by gifting her with their Divine Blessings or gorgeous articles of clothing.

Therefore, a perfect candidate for a Heroic Vessel, and a perfect cover story for Alaya to insert its influence in this world and era.

Supposedly.

However, it must admit since she's just #02, it still had a long way to go to perfect its own influence on her. Well, at least, this failure was advantageous in its own way, providing a background on which successive Heroic Vessels could be born better, stronger, safer, and more efficient.

Regret? There's nothing of the sort existing in beings like Alaya, and Alaya itself. It chose Pandora from all available candidates because of her excellence, even before she was destined to commit the act which would bring about the ruin of the Greek pantheon. It supported her before and after her birth, provided her with the knowledge and power for her to live comfortably – and in turn, to steer humans born after her into a better future.

Why should it regret its own actions? It's not its fault Pandora turned out to be this way – it's simply born out of her own weakness, one which it had given her the tools to overcome.

Yet, she used them, perverted them, corrupted them in order to fulfil her own selfish desires. Who should she blame in turn, then, when Alaya deployed SHIRŌ, her perfected successor, against her?

Truly unreasonable.

Therefore, it decided to do something with these two cores right here. There's no sense to waste anything Pandora had deemed to have failed – that's just how her character had grown – and not use them to further its own means.

Why was humanity so suppressed and in conflict with Gaia as time passed? There were several instances where it went against what was the natural order, both for its own good and its short-sighted desires. For example, Gilgamesh's original rebellion against the gods weakened the Mystery left over by Sefar's invasion, further driving the deities or Divine Spirits – and in turn, the World – therefore firmly planting the idea humanity was the scrounge of the universe in its most basic planes of consciousness. The death of King Solomon. The repeated usage of the weapons forged in the core of the planet.

All of this was inherently done by 'humans', increasing the animosity between both parties.

Going down this route, Alaya had foreseen itself perishing together with Gaia, with no victor to take the crown at the end of times. Humanity was gone. The World was gone.

Nothing was left… or would be left if they continued to squabble for supremacy like this.

So why not take the option of cooperation?

Gaia itself had long lost its personal intelligence, having succumbed to the injuries transmitted from its avatar in the _Titanomakhia_ against the current Olympians. Eons of battle, both when it still held its form as an Ultimate One to its current and future form, had driven back its consciousness to the point of nonexistence. Its presence could only be felt robotic ally, when it automatically responded to a per-programmed classification of threats.

That's what made it dangerous. Its indiscriminate manner to deal with things, as well as the loopholes others could exploit to parasite its strength and kill it slowly but surely.

While the World's continued existence wasn't paramount to humanity, as one future proved when they simply migrated into another living space, it's for the best humanity regained the blessings of the universe, so the two parties could mutually strengthen each other's position in the face of outside threats, such as Sefar. If that one person wasn't able to wield the planet's core-forged weapon, then the two entities wouldn't survive past the next era, no matter what they did.

Being like them were simply too forcefully passive to react to such sudden threats – a cost to pay for their power of [Creation]. [Destruction] was always easier – that's why 'puny humans' were able to harm the planet as much as they did, without even truly using Magecraft, and they had long lost the ability to _create_. The secret art of the gods, passed down to a select few to utilize to further humanity's own prosperity… gone. Simply _gone_ after a few generations. It's not as if it's not popular, either – the cases where this ability was misused neared 100% of its able wielders.

Therefore, the Heroic Vessels weren't just necessary to fix certain singularity points in history, where the resulting Quantum Time Lock would prune that reality, but also to birth new branching possibilities in the metaphorical fabric of fate.

Their bloodline – far beyond simple metrics like DNA and RNA – would plant seeds throughout human history to birth great individuals, who in turn would and could break their own limited fate and change the World… quite literally. Other than that, these bloodlines could also mix with already-talented individuals and pushed them beyond their own limits, too. Chances of these things happening was also quite large, as human population wouldn't exponentially increase until the end of several great wars.

From his deployment in Britain's Dark Ages, there's already significant changes occurring to that particular timeline, where the Pendragon clan continued their prosperous rule for longer and farther than it was fated to be. Alaya was trying to connect that future with this neglected past, hopeful to forge a greater connection and stabilizing the changes by virtue of having the main player, SHIRŌ, existing in these two dots in reality.

So, these two things should be used in the same manner.

Having gleamed far into the future which no longer existed, Alaya already had formulated a plan in mind to use them well. The Olympians could have their stolen Authorities and Divine Essences. What it needed in turn had already been secured, ready to change fate once again.

* * *

Piles of books and parchments were scattered about randomly in Athena's domain, looking more like a dumpster rather than a goddess's living quarters. Those objects were also of several styles, some of which hadn't even been invented yet – such as modern-lined and –backed tomes, or metal-ringed binders, and so on. As the Goddess of [Wisdom], she had the Authority to grant her followers the knowledge to create these objects; however, technological developments which were too fast would only create [Chaos] among humanity.

Thus, she mostly kept them for herself. Besides, there's not enough space in her consciousness to catalogue scattered pieces of papyrus, so she preferred abusing these forms to tidy things up.

Normally, she wouldn't let her own living quarters be this messy. There's several automated servants who'd clean things up… if there wasn't another goddess in the way, lounging around with her curvaceous body like she owned the place.

"Athenaaaaaaa… I'm booorrrreeeeeeddddddd…" Artemis whined, rolling around on the ground as her breasts made an annoyingly bouncy sound.

\- Boing. Boing. Boing.

In the end, she crawled like a caterpillar to hug the petite white-haired goddess, who's to consumed with her task to yell out in frustration and beat her up. Artemis's breasts enveloped Athena's head, which was sinking in without resistance and almost covering her entire field of vision as a result.

_'It's too hot with you nearby!' _Athena yelled out internally, but she bit her lips and held her tongue, choosing not to waste energy in scolding the glamorous goddess.

Usually, she'd order some of her servants laying around to take any intruder away… but they're programmed to doubt themselves whenever someone with [Divinity] and higher Conceptual Weight were around. They're not security details, so their aggressiveness regarding other people was low… and thus useless against the completely non-antagonistic goddess who simply wished to play around and disregard her job.

No, no, she couldn't be too critical. Artemis was powerful – despite her casual attitude to pretty much everything – and a valuable, trusted ally against the darkness beginning to encroach upon Olympus. Hera had little battle power, and now… with Hecate down for the count, Athena's faction was growing worryingly thin. Her brother, Ares, had suddenly became uncontactable, with a good probability he's already fallen into the clutches of evil.

After all, that idiotic brother was always prone to following his primal instincts, and easily manipulated as a result.

What irked her the most was not knowing where Hecate stood, prior to her current situation. Most of the Olympian deities felt what happened in Atlantis – a _polis_ that powerful would always had major consequences across the world. If she had known Hecate treasured her students that much… then she'd have calculated things very differently.

For one, she'd sent her three new 'daughters' much sooner, safe in the knowledge of Hecate's top speed in crossing space and time with her skills. Instead, the three sisters were deployed in accordance to the _Argo_'s schedule – thus slightly late after unexpected 'emotional growth' hampered their travels. Not that Athena was furious; she was confident in Jason's ability to safeguard his crew and finish the mission in a perfect manner, without any sacrifices.

Latest indication told her he's not fully human… yet he had no divine blood running in him. Therefore, the current hypothesis was he descended from _another _transcendental being… one who's powerful enough to foretell this disaster rampaging Olympus before Athena, Hecate, Zeus, Hera, or any other gods who considered themselves omniscient. Was it in cohorts with the Titans? The Protogenoi?

…in any case, she's only glad it appeared to be on their side _for the moment_. She dreaded what a being like that could do, if its chosen champion was this powerful.

Powerful… to the extent Athena doubted her own safety if they dueled seriously to the death.

Mortals weren't supposed to be able to do that. Athena wasn't one to demand blind worship, like other gods who're offended at the notion of a human being able to _think_ and _question_ their 'creeds'… but still, wasn't Jason much too overpowered?! To seamlessly support Herakles against an unknown opponent without a single mistake, as if he didn't only see one step ahead, but the entire battle between two other individuals perfectly.

And his Magecraft at the end… It's similar to the one he used when he rushed towards Amazon to save his daughter and her mother. A Reality Marble, perhaps? But Athena had never seen one she couldn't peer through with everything she had…

No, no, she must focus on this thing right now! What's happened in the past had happened, and there's no sense in worrying about that, considering the outcome was perhaps as optimal as she desired, bar Hecate's injuries.

Going back to the Goddess of [Magic]… her signature magic energy was the one which laid the final blow on Atlantis. Disregarding its state before Hecate's final spell, to destroy an entire city saturated with a main Olympian's [Divinity] and Conceptual Weight was no joke. It took far more than the one Athena expended in her conflict with Poseidon in the past, because the remains of Atlantis… was nothing. Absolutely, positively _nothing_.

It was as if it didn't exist in the first place.

Now, if it's a conceptual-based attack which directly damaged an entity's existence, then Athena could understand. However, whatever Hecate used was definitely unknown to her or the other deities, because it's simply pure, destructive [Power]. Nothing else. [Power] so overwhelming it reduced everything it touched into dust, pulverizing anything with brute force alone.

This simple fact made it a technique onto its own, despite outwardly not presenting any complex calculations, skills, or maneuvers.

Athena wasn't sure whether it's the exertion of using this technique, or the intense battle with Poseidon she predicted happened between him and Hecate, but it certainly held a hand in the latter's current condition… which, again, was frustratingly undetectable by Hecate.

_Almost_ as much as Artemis patting her neck, cheeks, and head like she's Orion.

"Funya… Athena's hair's so silky… You smell so good…" the 'more adult' goddess cooed, annoyingly pressing their cheeks together and rubbing them with love. "Why are you always so cold to me…"

\- Munyu.

As always, with this close proximity, _those annoying two things_ were pressed into Athena's slim body, morphing their shape fluidly, a sign of the softness and tenderness held within them.

"Get off!" No longer able to take it, Athena shoved Artemis back… which, of course, landed her hands to sink into those big breasts of the latter.

\- Munyu.

"Grr…" The Goddess of [Wisdom] growled, scolding, "At least help me with my job! And no, 'helping me relax' doesn't count!"

Artemis giggled, her goal achieved. "Yes, yes…"

To be fair, this lazy goddess was actually more dutiful than a fair few other deities. She and her brother, Apollo, patronized more heroes than most, indiscriminately supporting those who didn't have divine or noble blood, unlike some deities. For instance, her relationship with Atalanta itself was unusual, in a way that girl wasn't special in any way apart from her sorry condition after being abandoned by her father. Normally, the chosen mortals needed to show they deserved their deities' attention – yet Atalanta simply received Artemis's pity, simple as that.

Of course, watching the helpless baby grew into a fierce lioness validated this action, though it didn't particularly inspire other gods other than incite some barbed words.

How Athena would've loved it if Ares shared a shred of Artemis's kindness and future foresight. Then they wouldn't be as at odds as they're now.

Shuffling loudly, mostly due to her own 'large' sizes knocking books, notes, accessories, parchments, and others some way or the other, Artemis quickly sorted several eye-catching contents and levitate them towards Athena's side. They're not particularly vital, but helpful information nonetheless. Athena had long sorted out the former, having studied them intensely for several hours already to formulate the next plan.

Certainly, the culprit behind the assault and corruption of Olympians wouldn't stay still and take this result quietly. Before, Jason's swift interruption of the individual who stole Eros's power undoubtedly pushed its plans back a few steps. Recently, Athena's and Jason's joint effort to preempt whatever the individual controlling Poseidon was doing essentially destroyed a major point in its plans.

Two data points were far too few, but if one pulled an imaginary and predictive line through both, then the next event could possibly involve several major kingdoms in Greece… perhaps devolving them into a world war.

Athena wasn't a stranger to [War] – she adored it, in fact, because of the potential beauty and elegance which could be birthed from it, in contrast to her brother who reveled in the plain physical destruction and bloodshed. How she could win without casualties. How she could win by verbal assault, instead of a physical one. How she could win completely, with every single opponent surrendering not just their body, but their soul and allegiance as well…

That thought brought a rare smile to her face.

One scary enough for Artemis to yelp, "Eep!" and scuttle back momentarily.

Whoever it was… it had the gall and desire to go against _her_.

So, just like Hecate… she'd give it her all.

No matter what it took.

"Are you sure this project won't cost you your relationship with Jason? I mean… if it's me, then I'd treasure that first before making this kind of move," Artemis suggested, having recovered from her shock. "You should know the risk of failures – from both sides – far better than anyone else. So why persist? There's plenty of longer, safer roads for us…"

"But those won't lead directly to victory," Athena argued back. "There's too many chances for this opponent of ours to escape, regroup, and strike back. This is for the World, as well as humanity."

With a serious mood now permeating the space, Artemis narrowed her eyes – normally doe-like and sparkling with curiosity – as her cheerful mask fell off to one side. "You know I hate using children, too, correct?"

\- Swish.

Athena comfortably swung around, facing the larger goddess without hesitation. The look in her eyes wasn't one of defiance, but _respect_ – if it's the former, then Artemis would've broken off their engagement and form another faction by herself. While their outward bickering might seem unfriendly, the two of them were actually quite close when they're children… only growing this way because of the separate ordeals they faced to grown into full-powered goddesses.

The Goddess of [War] placed a thumb near her neck, before moving them horizontally to the other side.

"As written by contract," she declared. "If things go wrong, then use this head as a sacrifice to correct it. Of that, my conviction is as strong as ever."

\- …

The stare-off happened for several seconds – an eternity for beings like them, but paradoxically an instant at the same time – before Artemis shook her head and placed her hands on her hips, while still sitting down.

"I wish to bless Molpadia before that, if I may."

Knowing she's won Artemis over, Athena smiled thinly. "That's all I ask."

* * *

_"You are late. We have no need of you. You may leave."_

Those were the words of Atalanta, Princess of Arcadia, when Labrys landed on the smoothly-sailing _Argo_ right after everything's over. Then, she brusquely kicked them off the ship – Labrys and her sisters, that was – and set sail towards the nearby port town.

Thus, now, the three of them had just suddenly became jobless.

"So… what should we do now?" Aegis asked, innocently tilting her head to one side, sincerely not understanding why her older sister was now so depressed. "Are we on vacation?"

\- SMACK!

"O-OW! M-Metis! W-What's that for?!" Aegis cried out, holding the back of her head.

Obviously, her constitution was far sturdier than one which could be injured by such a minor slap, even if the one giving it was her younger sister, who had the same body structure. However, the shock and level of sensory input automatically garnered such a response, as their 'mother', Athena, had programmed them as such. It's different in combat than during normal conversation, of course, so they could blend in better with the human society.

Compared to their original designs, where ball joints took the place of artificial, actual flesh-and-blood tissue, their appearance alone was already impeccably human. Therefore, they required emotional and spiritual intelligence to operate at a level close to one – Athena had very little expectation in the three of them actually achieving 100% synchronization, because she didn't design them to that end.

She _did_ make living beings who achieved that. It's just the small problem two of them were dead at the hands of the third, no matter how incidental or third-party-influenced that incident was.

Among the three, only Metis had the emotional capability to compare herself to that 'perfect' project – Medousiana Gorgon, the last survivor of that creation story. However, the youngest sister checked herself just before it reached jealousy, knowing there's literally no point in indulging in that negative emotions.

Their mother was great enough to love them equally. Being jealous would imply Athena was flawed and unable to create and improve on the Gorgons' original design, and that she was just like the other Olympians – full of flaws and selfish desires, instead of being the greatest goddess who lorded over humanity along with the responsibilities which came with it.

Therefore, Metis could confidently say she's comfortable being just the smartest among her siblings… which wasn't entirely hard to do – but still, it counted!

_"WE APOLOGIZE FOR OUR TARDINESS! PERMISSION TO CLIMB ON BOARD!"_

For instance, Labrys being so loud and obnoxious the instant they arrived near the _Argo_… right when she's nose-to-nose with Atalanta. While bowing down submissively might've helped her cause, it's apparent from afar the green-gold-haired princess was having quite a bad day. Naturally, the eldest sibling had very little tact installed in her goody-two-shoes head, so she was confused as to why the adventurer brusquely escorted them off the deck.

Aegis was being her usual air-headed self… which was the main cause for their late arrival. With the mental command of 'help humanity' installed in their base consciousness, she automatically veered off-course when she saw several settlements struggling with the sudden drop in seawater caused by Atlantis's destruction. The void underwater would've swallowed mountains, much less those dinky shoreline villages, and one of Poseidon's Divine Essence, [Earthquake], running loose was the worst follow-up to happen after this event.

Fortunately, it all came to naught as the sea level returned to normal after a prolonged period of time, instead of via large tsunamis across Greece. Still, Aegis insisted robotically they _had_ to help, despite this current mission taking a far higher priority… thus they were late. Labrys didn't have it in her to scold Aegis, so it fell to Metis to do the job properly.

The second sibling might be the most loved by the other two – Labrys and Metis didn't particularly get along well – but her antics were troublesome, more often than not.

However, ironically, perhaps this inconsistency and impulsiveness made her the closest to humanity than the other two, whose purer personalities meant they're only able to see things in one way, instead of the larger picture.

Not that Metis would admit it. She's the first to realize her own shortcomings, and was learning hard to overcome them, no matter the source. While they might not see eye-to-eye often, Labrys had her own good points Metis could study from. Ditto with Aegis – though she's not sure whether her two sisters had anything to learn from her.

After all, her name meant 'combined wisdom and cunning'. Her sisters were all named after weapons and arms… thus the distinction between 'brain' and 'muscle' between the three was born. Well, to be fair, she too had an aspect of that in her name, which loosely connected to a 'helmet' – specifically, one her 'mother' often wore during her days warring against her opponents.

"Why didn't that thought surface in your mind when we're on our way to the _Argo_, Sister? Because of that, now we're late and kicked out!" Metis scolded, though it didn't apparently take on Aegis's expression, earning more of the younger sister's ire. "Reflect on your actions a bit more!"

"Now, now, Metis, don't be too hard on her," Labyrs attempted to mediate. "We're one unit, right? Allow the two of us to shoulder the burden, too…"

Her attempt wasn't successful, though. "I refuse! This is a _mission_ from our mother! That should take priority over any and all situations, even if it concerns human lives! It's a _direct order_." Metis scowled. "No matter how much we're born for that purpose, there's one thing superseding it: the wish of our mother! There's no excuse!"

\- Pat.

As her voice grew louder and louder, Aegis palm suddenly moved towards the top of her head, ruffling it slowly and deliberately, much to Metis's confusion.

"Ah… I'm sorry about all of that. However, didn't it all went well? So we won't get scolded," the blonde calmly spoke out Metis's fears… which made her more frustrated as a result.

Where was this thinking capability _before _they forcefully descended to help those villagers safeguard their lives? Why? Why was Aegis allowed to act this way, when Metis held herself to a much higher standard?!

"Hmph! We'll see about that!" She scampered off by herself, intent on returning first to Olympus to report this to Athena.

Labrys sighed. "Why is that girl so difficult…"

"Isn't that because she loves us?" Aegis innocently suggested, smiling cutely. "She just cares for Mother more than us, that's all."

"I don't know how you formed that thought… but alright," the cyan-haired artificial human shrugged, not particularly following Aegis's reasoning.

The two of them flew in the same direction as Metis, though far slower in pace. They're not particularly worried about Metis's threat – or, rather, they _couldn't_, as their computational capacity wasn't specialized in that aspect. All they were worried about was fulfilling the design brief installed in them, and not creating any sort of paradox which could cause major system breakdowns by erratically behaving.

Unbeknownst to them, this split in personalities was intentionally designed by Athena. She wished to observe the conflict between three different individuals in a controlled environment, after fulfilling her experiment in creating the 'perfect beings' with the Gorgon sisters. Therefore, while on paper the three sisters were inferior to Medusa in terms of pure specification, they served an arguably more important purpose.

After all, just like humans, deities, too, learned more from [Chaos] than [Order].

To Aegis, Metis's outburst was understandable to a point. She recognized their equal desire to please their 'mother', but they approached the final products in different ways. For instance, Aegis felt closer to Athena whenever she's helping humans – to see their smiles, gratitude, happiness, and general feel-good atmosphere made her understand why Athena favored humans so. To Metis, however, acting upon Athena's words down to the very last letter was her expression of love towards her mother, to signify Athena held the highest level of loyalty in her heart.

This was just speculation on Aegis's part, though, since they never particularly talked about this issue face-to-face.

Labrys was far more straightforward, boldly declaring her intentions whenever and wherever. This was apparently well-received by humans, which was why Metis reluctantly tagged along when they helped evacuating citizens, reinforcing coastal defenses, and so on – the eldest sister just made too many fans who wished to respect her with feasts and festivals once she loudly voiced her desire to help them. There's no intent in her to take the glory away from Aegis – that was just how their personalities differ. The middle sister preferred to blend into the background and play support, while the eldest took charge from the front and soldiered on.

It's a trait she admired from Labrys… and one she suspected Metis did, too, to a degree.

Therefore, she didn't think too badly of Labrys's error in front of Lady Atalanta. It's simply their personalities clashing… or, more precisely, the emotions at the moment was wholly inappropriate for both of their responses. In Aegis's mental library, such treatment from the Arcadian princess would usually offend every human being in the world.

But they're not human, so it's fine.

_'Or is it…?'_

Certainly, Labrys was now more bored than offended. She simply didn't have the capacity to feel the latter, even after Atalanta coldly threw them off the ship for their tardiness. There's a chance she's simply in a bad mood, so it's more because of their bad timing rather than what she'd done.

Well, both of _those_ could be attributed to what they'd done. Because they stopped multiple times to assist the endangered humans along the way, the generous time window their 'mother' had given them was reduced to nothingness… leading to that confrontation on the _Argo_'s deck.

\- Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!

As they started making their way home, an 'electronic communication' arrived mentally in their brains.

"Eh? We've been asked to return?" Labrys questioned, looking at Aegis to look for a confirmation both of them had received the same message. "Should we fetch Metis first?"

Aegis shook her blonde hair. "We should prioritize the client this time. That's what she'll do if she's here."

"That's awfully perceptive of you," Labrys bluntly commented, eliciting a pained smile from her younger sister.

With that, they left, now in the opposite direction to their youngest sibling.

* * *

"Why are you running away?"

\- Twitch!

The sudden voice calling Circe out from behind her surprised her, making her wings tremble nervously.

"Atalanta… H-Hyah!"

Turning around, Circe expected the princess to cross her arms and speak from afar… instead of standing nearly nose-to-nose with her, almost whispering those words into her pointy long ears.

_'D-Does this girl h-have no sense of p-personal space?!'_ She protested in her mind, though Atalanta's arms immediately formed two encasing pillars around her body, pinning her to the side beams of the _Argo_'s upper deck. "W-Wa-Wa-WAAA?!"

"Why are you running away?"

"I heard you the first time!" The magus squeaked out, craning her neck backwards to gain any kind of distance from the far-too-close glaring predatory eyes of Atalanta.

"Then do answer. I sure hope you shall give out an excuse which shan't make Shirō sad."

Her matter-of-factly manner of speaking made Circe nervous for a moment, but after a while, her words did sink in.

"I… I can't guarantee that…"

"Then let us go speak with him. Perhaps a meeting shall clear your mind."

"No! There's no need for that!" Circe hissed, trying to resist Atalanta now pulling her back towards the living quarters. "I'll speak! I'll speak!"

\- Flap! Flap! Flap!

She even used her wings to try to add force to her resist, but the Arcadian princess's strength was far beyond her even if she added Reinforcement on top of that. However, it did seem Atalanta wasn't particularly trying to put her in trouble, so she relented.

Before Circe could speak, though, Atalanta had already spoken out her mind.

"Do not think your presence here is a bother. Shirō does not think that; so too I myself, Medea… and your teacher shall speak of this as well, I am sure." Bluntly pointing out the flaws in Circe's still-unsaid excuses, she continued, "What happened in Atlantis… is a thing of the past. Do stay with us to improve your rehabilitation."

Circe blinked several times, trying to assure herself she'd just heard this difficult-to-work-with A-Ranker… consoling her? "R-Rehab, isn't it…? That won't be necessary."

Atalanta tilted her head to one side, confused at how her conclusion was wrong.

"Master's Fifth Magic… has already washed all of those memories away. Or, rather… it's a [Fate Rejection]. But thank you for the concern, Your Highness," Circe replied, earning her a painful pinch on her side from the irritated princess. She deliberately addressed her as such because she knew Atalanta disliked being called that, in an attempt to lighten the situation. "Ow! Ow! Ow!"

"Then return to me my concern, you cretin," she flatly scolded. "However, my judgement is indeed off – you look very healthy to me. _Too healthy_, perhaps."

Despite this exchange, both of them were simply relieved of their current situation. No matter how well-prepared and powerful they were, going up against a main god in his own _polis _could go wrong at any point. To be frank, it all went wrong from the start when Circe allowed herself to be captured in a moment of weakness, but they salvaged the situation as best as they could. Also, Atalanta's rough exterior was simply her way of expressing her purest emotions, which often went down wrong with others.

The two women, despite their shared affections of Shirō, rarely interacted with each other.

Oh, Atalanta knew of his past with Circe… which surprised him when she didn't raise much of a fuss. He looked at her like she was hit in the head when she simply pointed out how his youth and his current situation meant it's acceptable – and even expected – for the main wife to show some consideration of her husband's flings, both past, present, and future.

Shirō blamed it on the Olympians setting a bad example, but Atalanta honestly didn't have any personal issues with that. To her, he had earned that right throughout every ordeal he surpassed in his life and career, just like how she thought of herself after everything she's been through. She deserved to have the best man in Greece, after her terrible experiences with other men in the past – she truly believed that.

Therefore, she, too, believed Circe deserved her place in their family.

The arms she put around the pink-haired magus tightened into a hug, eliciting a surprised yelp from Circe. Her wings flapped nervously, her mind clearly not able to think of a reason behind this gesture of affection.

"Are you still set on leaving?"

"Yes. I have said my goodbyes to your husband, so don't worry there."

"But you have not done the same to Medea, have you not?" Atalanta pointed out. "I shall declare I hate seeing crying little girls, so I shall seek revenge on you if that happens."

Circe awkwardly chuckles. "Haha… Please spare me. But… it's better if I don't interfere. His… _Your_ family doesn't need me. Besides, it's clear he loves you more than he does to me, and an unfair level of affection doesn't make a harmonious house."

"You do not know…!"

"I do, and _you do_ as well," Circe rebuked. "You can see how he looks at me… and how he gazes at you, Medusa, or Medea, no? Your instincts should've bene able to tell you that much. I'm just a good friend – a _dear_ one, yes, but not enough to join your family."

After that, they spent several more seconds hugging each other in silence. Well, to be honest, it's more Atalanta squeezing Circe in a bear hug, nearly suffocating the petite magus like a stuffed toy.

"What shall you do from now on?"

"Ahaha… I'll continue to research back at my Workshop, and aim to further my teacher's teachings. It's getting to the part of my life when I need to settle down, unlike Medea who needs experience outside to grow," Circe admitted, finally having the chance to break the hug.

From this distance, she could appreciate the blazing beauty of Atalanta's wildness – of her intense floral-slash-forest scent, and her all-enveloping magic signature output. Compared to Shirō, Circe was more of a tactile person, so she sensed others through her skin and the underside of her wings instead of Shirō's or Atalanta's nose.

_'No wonder he loves her so much…'_

She'd fully admit she's a vain person. Proud of her beauty and skill in Magecraft, she personally placed her own worth among the top percentile of women in the world. There's no need to mention her bewitching face – already alluring despite not using any enhancements. She could also manipulate her body to give the greatest pleasure to men, disregarding any hip technique – and that's before she used any performance-altering drugs on her and/or her partner.

However, right now, this close to Atalanta, she'd also freely admit she felt jealous.

Circe envied her who still possessed her pure personality and viewpoint before she was deflowered. Circe still desired to be beside the man she adored the most… but she was inferior to her own younger apprentice sister, both in terms of talent and ability to secure a place in Shirō's heart.

That's what she got for seducing him using artificial means, instead of spending quality time and forming a strong bond between them like his other women.

Therefore, she couldn't even protest herself, much less any argument Atalanta was supposed to bring forth as a scornful wife… but even the latter was accepting of her existence in Shirō's life, however faint.

She's not confident she could do the same if she's put in a similar position. Thus, she chose to retreat.

\- Whoosh…

Suddenly, a large gust of wind enveloped the two women.

Having plenty of experience flying in the air, Circe could tell this wasn't natural, but a result of a [Flight] spell or a similar technique.

Tearing her eyes away from Atalanta's beauty for a moment, the magus noted two young girls had just landed on the _Argo_'s deck – one with blue-haired ponytail, the other had her blonde hair in a rough short bob.

Before she could ask for their identities, Atalanta had already spoken.

"This is your new task: Escort Miss Circe safely to wherever she wishes to go. Guard her with your life… or whatever level Lady Athena allows you to." Waving her arm forward, she commanded while pushing Circe with her other one, "Go!"

Both Labrys and Aegis saluted, acknowledging the mission.

* * *

**Character Sheet Update!**

* * *

**A**

**Aegis Athenia  
**

**Title: The Paladin**  
** Predicted Class: Shielder, Archer**  
** Gender: Female**  
** Height: 162 cm**  
** Weight: Heavy…  
**

**Alignment: Lawful Good  
**

**Strength: B**  
** Endurance: B**  
** Agility: B**  
** Mana: C**  
** Luck: C**  
** Noble Phantasm: A**

**Class/Personal Skills:  
**

**Self-Field Defense: B**  
A Class Skill of the [Shielder] class. When protecting allies or an allied camp, Aegis's disposition as Athena's [Shield] would boost defense and damage reduction surpassing her original limits.

**Affections of the Goddess: B**  
Being loved by her 'mother', the goddess Athena, her Divine Blessings covered Aegis ever since her birth. Other than Mana and Luck, all stats are Ranked-Up.

**Battle Continuation: B**  
Coming from her artificial body and mind, Aegis had significant tolerance to both pain and injuries, able to function and battle well even after sustaining mortal wounds to vital parts of her body. Only complete destruction of either her entire head or torso would permanently disable her; even so, there's a chance she could be revived with the proper methods.

**Galvanism: B**  
Aegis was able to convert and accumulate magical energy and any form of electricity without limit. At her current rank, energy-based Thamaturgies would be disassembled and absorbed upon direct contact, enabling her to use them for offense, defense, or healing.

**Self-Modification: B**  
Given appropriate materials, time, and other resources, Aegis was able to utilize foreign objects, both organic and inorganic, to remold or merge her structure with said additions. She preferred either metals or carbon-based materials, with other elements increasing the difficulty of the operation.

**Orgia Mode: A+**  
The temporary disabling of Aegis's natural limiter. However, it granted C-Ranked [Mad Enhancement] onto her, making her inhibition logic fail. Until her body overheats, this Skill couldn't be deactivated. A Rank-Up to Strength, Endurance, Agility, and Mana.

**Noble Phantasms**

**Wild Card: Foolish Chariot**  
** Rank: A**  
** Type: Support**  
** Range: 1**  
** Max. Targets: 1**

The pure ability to defy [Fate] and common convention, as befitting its name. in practice, Aegis was able to mimic and perfect the abilities she's seen from others, granting her immense variability and match-up advantages. Usually applied on allies, she needed to form a deep enough emotional bond to her targets, before being able to use their abilities as if they're her own.

Because of her mostly mechanical construct, it's difficult for her to master this ability at first. However, after learning from her older sister, Labrys, she significantly upgraded her capability to empathize with others. Aside from basic Thaumaturgy, with a deep enough comprehension, she would even be able to perfectly imitate Magic Crests and utilize them better than their original possessors.

This Noble Phantasm's ability to alter [Fate] worked similarly to [Pioneer of the Stars] and [Fateweaver], where most difficult and 'impossible' challenges turned into 'events which can be realized'. She inherited this from Athena reversing her [Wisdom] attribute, throwing away all rationale and giving way to sheer bull-headedness against [Fate], enabling Aegis to consistently survive and triumph in difficult situations.

**Palladion: Shield of Athena**  
** Rank: A+**  
** Type: Support**  
** Range: 100**  
** Max. Targets: 300**

The manifestation of an internal Reality Marble, after an experiment regarding artificially producing them in golems-homunculi like Aegis. Like her sisters, this Reality Marble enabled her to enter and move into a different dimension, where only her opponents' deepest and truest avatars existed, enabling her to harm their souls directly, instead of relying on external physical damage.

Created to hunt down and exterminate the Dæmons infesting primeval-era Gaia – entities found within the 6th Imaginary Aspect, serving as the aliases of humanity. The dimension Aegis entered wasn't precisely this plane, but one where both Dæmons and beings similar to her could coexist and interact with each other. As rogue Dæmons corrupted humanity's actions on the surface, Athena created this program to rescue her worshipers from a deviant path.

In this plane of existence, various random parameters were boosted and/or reduced. Unlike true, natural Reality Marble, physical damage done to Palladion would reflect back onto her own self – whereas only soul-damaging techniques were supposedly able to do the same. Two of her strongest armaments – [Heavenly Spear] and [Goddess Shield] – were only available once Palladion was active.

**Character Description**

The 2nd in a series of Athena's experimentation, where she strived to create beings similar to her – those who were birthed without going through the normal process of [Unity]. As Athena was born by Zeus without the aid of a female being, so, too, did Aegis and her sisters. Owing to various variables, Aegis ended up the strongest among the 3 surviving golem-homunculus hybrid, and was granted the title 'Athenia'.

Normally a kind, sweet girl, she's oftentimes too rigid and responsible when given orders or in black-and-white situations. These volatile emotions made her the most compatible when interacting with humans – resulting in her being relatively easy to influence. However, complicated expressions were on occasion incalculable, leading to operational errors.

In her younger years, she doubted her place in the world, caught between a being of Olympus – being born directly from Athena's flesh – an artificial, unnatural being who's supposed to be repressed by Gaia, and a developing human's heart. Over time, she arguably had conquered these personal demons, though it's doubtful how much progress she had actually made.

* * *

**L**

**Labrys Athenia  
**

**Title: The Cleaver**  
** Predicted Class: Lancer, Berserker**  
** Gender: Female**  
** Height: 160 cm**  
** Weight: Heavy…  
**

**Alignment: Neutral Good  
**

**Strength: A**  
** Endurance: A**  
** Agility: C**  
** Mana: C**  
** Luck: C**  
** Noble Phantasm: A**

**Class/Personal Skills:  
**

**Independent Action: A**  
Having emerged as the sole artificial being who developed an intelligence of her own among her generation, Labrys had a strong sense of self, enough to negotiate her own place with Athena herself. After being adopted as the oldest 'sibling' for her new 'family', she still had a fierce and independent personality, enough to sustain herself for prolonged period of time without a large and sustained supply of magic energy.

**Mad Enhancement: B**  
Rank-Up to all parameters at the cost of sanity. However, unlike most Berserkers, her artificial programming would take over instead, making her laser-focused in spite of friend or foe. Only specific pre-commands would hinder her aggression towards those around her; otherwise, she's very difficult to control.

**Affections of the Goddess: B**  
Being loved by her 'mother', the goddess Athena, her Divine Blessings covered Labrys ever since her birth. Other than Mana and Luck, all stats are Ranked-Up.

**Battle Continuation: B**  
Coming from her artificial body and mind, Labrys had significant tolerance to both pain and injuries, able to function and battle well even after sustaining mortal wounds to vital parts of her body. Only complete destruction of either her entire head or torso would permanently disable her; even so, there's a chance she could be revived with the proper methods.

**Galvanism: B**  
Labrys was able to convert and accumulate magical energy and any form of electricity without limit. At her current rank, energy-based Thamaturgies would be disassembled and absorbed upon direct contact, enabling her to use them for offense, defense, or healing.

**Self-Modification: B**  
Given appropriate materials, time, and other resources, Aegis was able to utilize foreign objects, both organic and inorganic, to remold or merge her structure with said additions. She preferred either metals or carbon-based materials, with other elements increasing the difficulty of the operation.

**Orgia Mode: C**  
The temporary disabling of Labrys's natural limiter. The quality of this Skill was inferior due to its conception: Unlike Aegis's or Metis's, who're designed to utilize it, hers was a result of her fellow generational artificial beings sacrificing themselves for her to succeed, as she was seen as the most humane among them. While this Skill didn't come with a [Mad Enhancement], like Aegis, its Rank-Up was limited only to Strength and Endurance. It automatically stopped when she overheated.

**Noble Phantasms**

**Labrys of the Abyss: Labyrinthine Axe**  
** Rank: B**  
** Type: Anti-Unit, Anti-Army**  
** Range: 10  
Max. Targets: 25**

Labrys's main battle weapon, in the form of her namesake, the two-headed axe labrys. Like most of her more recent armaments, it's created from the fallen and disassembled bodies of her fellow artificial constructs of the same or prior generation, forged together by Hephaestus's assistance to create an indestructible weapon. As a result, rather than a sharp axe, it functioned more like a wedge-shaped bludgeon.

Versatile and strong, with an inherent Skill [Self-Modification], it could transform freely into other forms according to Labrys's needs. Aside from its default axe form, it was equipped with a chain-flail, rocket boosters, small projectiles, and so on. It could be combined with Ariadne to increase its range even more, though doing this was taxing to both her mainframe and software.

Its main ability was to store every energy it came into contact with and converting them into pure potential energy, which Labrys could then unleash through a variety of pre-prepared spells and runes carved across the axe and her body. The output process was unique, in a way it transcended its theoretical maximum output and gaining a Rank, just like a Broken Phantasm, but without permanent damage to the weapon, as if it's alive and healing itself…

**Ariadne: Inquisitive Weaver's Art**  
** Rank: A**  
** Type: Anti-Unit, Anti-Army**  
** Range: 300  
Max. Targets: 1000**

A copy of Ariadne's – the Cretan Princess – Authority, [Strings of Fate]. Manifesting itself as a cat-shaped spool of red string, it's unbreakable unless cut by a reality-altering-based enhancement. Seemingly without a weight limit, it, too, could stretch infinitely, so long as the user was sufficiently skilled enough to sense and control its shape and trajectory.

Labrys was granted this ability's basics from Athena when she first escaped the goddess's experimental confinement, when her fellow artificial beings helped and sacrificed themselves to allow her to taste the freedom they all craved, placing all their hopes and dreams on their shoulder. As a reward for her persistence, determination, and inner strength, she granted the now-eldest 'sister' of her series the concept of one of Athena's priestess and champion, Ariadne.

Mainly used to complement [Labrys], the double-headed axe, because of Labrys's own lack of processing capability to use this weapon to its highest potential. Still, the two's combination perhaps possessed the highest potential strength among the three siblings when [Labrys] was fully charged. Aside from that, she usually used it for menial tasks too delicate for her relatively poor bodily control.

**Character Description**

Aegis's and Metis's oldest sister, created first as the 31st prototype among the 1st-generation series of artificial beings by Athena. Since her 'birth', her sense of self and individuality was exceptionally strong, enough so to be unanimously elected as the leader of her generation. Alas, the various trials and tribulations they faced to 'hone' themselves ended up costing most of them their lives, which they gladly used to improve Labrys both physically and mentally.

The current Labrys's body was an amalgamation of the best parts of her 'friends', as well as [Labrys]'s main frame and internals. Her software and processing capability was relatively rough and limited compared to her current younger 'sisters', and as such couldn't completely contain the memories and battle experience of the sacrifices incorporated in her. Still, she was intensely favored by Athena due to her battle style being the closest to the goddess's own.

Possessing the greatest level of empathy among the three siblings, Labrys was a kind-hearted individual who's sometimes too fired-up and emotional for her own good. There were several permanent operational errors scarring her judgmental capacity, originating from the various clashes between her human heart and artificial programming. However, even after knowing this, she rejected Athena's offer to 'fix' herself, wearing these scars as marks of pride – for her own self, and those who lost their lives in creating the present Labrys.

* * *

**M**

**Metis Athenia  
**

**Title: The Psyche**  
** Predicted Class: Caster, Avenger**  
** Gender: Female**  
** Height: 162 cm**  
** Weight: Heavy…  
**

**Alignment: Chaotic Neutral  
**

**Strength: C**  
** Endurance: D**  
** Agility: C**  
** Mana: A**  
** Luck: B**  
** Noble Phantasm: B**

**Class/Personal Skills:**

**Avenger: B**  
The ability to convert hatred and grudges into magical power. Metis utilized the negative emotions bottled up in her more humane sisters' hearts to increase her overall power output and reserves. It had a negative side-effect on her personality, though. This Skill also granted her C-Ranked [Self-Replenishment (Mana)].

**Independent Manifestation: C**  
Metis's birth was unintended by Athena, to the point it could be said she forced her own birth to happen into reality. Because her existence didn't need any support or energy supply from Athena, she was immediately bound into her 'siblings' to control her. Unbeknownst to Athena, Metis willingly accepted this binding because of her longing for love. This Skill granted her great resistance towards time-based or instant-death attacks.

**Memory Correction: C**  
A manifestation of her intense photographic emotional memory, where the data of negative emotions flowing into her was kept for eternity. Combined with the [Avenger] Skill, it improved her efficiency in converting dark emotions into energy.

**Affections of the Goddess: B**  
Being loved by her 'mother', the goddess Athena, her Divine Blessings covered Metis ever since her birth. Other than Mana and Luck, all stats are Ranked-Up.

**Self-Modification: B**  
Given appropriate materials, time, and other resources, Aegis was able to utilize foreign objects, both organic and inorganic, to remold or merge her structure with said additions. She preferred either metals or carbon-based materials, with other elements increasing the difficulty of the operation.

**Orgia Mode: EX**  
The temporary disabling of Metis's natural limiter. Unlike Aegis's and Labrys's inferior version, Metis's greater spiritual talent meant this skill came at little to no negative effects on her, giving her two Rank-Ups to Strength, Endurance, Agility, and Mana for a longer period of time and lesser self-damage

**Noble Phantasms**

**Psyche: Breath of Life**  
** Rank: A+**  
** Type: Anti-Army, Support**  
** Range: 80**  
** Max. Targets: 100**

The representation of Metis's version of the internal Reality Marbles all three siblings possessed. Like her sisters, Psyche allowed her to traverse the dimension where her opponents' true avatars of selves lie, where she could directly harm the latter instead of the former's physical forms.

Created to hunt down and exterminate the Dæmons infesting primeval-era Gaia – entities found within the 6th Imaginary Aspect, serving as the aliases of humanity. The dimension Aegis entered wasn't precisely this plane, but one where both Dæmons and beings similar to her could coexist and interact with each other. As rogue Dæmons corrupted humanity's actions on the surface, Athena created this program to rescue her worshipers from a deviant path.

Metis's Psyche specialized in the Authority of [Freeze], applicable to anything and everything she saw and touch in the planes. Normally utilized to perform True Magic-level ice-based Magecraft, with improved empathy and relationship with others, Metis had mastered it to the point of [Time Manipulation], using [Freeze] against the concept of [Time]. Psyche also assisted in 'reverting' this Authority, enabling some semblance of mastery over the [Fire] Element.

**The Answer: Abyssal Festival**  
** Rank: EX**  
** Type: Anti-World**  
** Range: ∞**  
** Max. Targets: ∞**

_Abyssus abyssum invocat_  
_ In voce cataractarum tuarum_  
_ Omnia excelsa tua_  
_ Et fluctus tui super me transierunt_  
_ O Abaddon…_

The 'secret weapon' of Athena, prepared against any future incoming makhia. Sealed in Metis since before her birth, it slowly festered and grew like a dungeon inside her Reality Marble, where its core was located. When the time was right, Metis's entire body – a magical construct planned precisely to hold this power prior to her premature birth – would dissipate and expand to cover the whole world, plunging it into the Domain of [Abyss].

Created with the combined and processed Divine Essences from Nyx and Erebus, the couple of [Darkness], and granted to Athena after the pair was impressed in the manner how she herself forced her premature birth, mirroring Metis's own in the future. When active, the universe would enter a period of stagnation, where important building blocks could be taken apart and reassembled to create a better world, taking down the old one.

Incidentally, due to unforeseen developments, this became a weapon comparable to the Knight Arms of Heroic Vessels, though Metis herself wasn't aware of it.

**Character Description**

A quiet, gloomy girl who preferred dark clothes, Metis was a surprisingly rude and sharp-tongued when she spoke. Often acting in selfish, childish manners, she was the source of Aegis's and Labrys's problems whenever they needed to interact with others to improve the strength of their particular brand of Reality Marble.

She loved her sisters and 'mother' dearly… perhaps too much, often disapproving of their efforts to communicate and form relationships with others, particularly humans. It's not she hated humanity, but simply her intense emotions making her dislike anyone who got close to her loved ones.

Born prematurely before Athena planned, she became a catalyst of the outlet of negative emotions not just from her current sisters, but those who died before her to improve her own design. While this made her have plenty of pent-up emotional outbursts, mostly coming from feelings not of her own, her usage of them as energy actually reduced the build-up of negative torrent inside her, changing her personality for the better. Of course, whenever she 'refilled', her personality would revert back to its original state.


	27. How to Make a Baby, Sans Olympus

**Warning: M-rated chapter below. Read at your own risk.  
**

****Welcome... and enjoy. **Yes, I said 'chapter', not 'scenes'. This is my best attempt at a lemon chapter yet. Do let me know what you think in the review section below, and share with me your fap experience if you so desire. There _is_ plot development in this chapter, so if you legally or morally can't read the following chapter, then PM me for the summary sans the M-rated acts. Not going to say much more than this!**

**Mailbag answers:  
****KRKing: Thank you for the kind review! FYI, this story is the best-viewed story in this site in regards to these pairings, so your support is also what makes that possible. Rarely have I ever dreamt of receiving such level of readership, along with HV-S01, and here's to hoping future chapters and future installments can be better and written without any problems. Hope to see you comment in the latest chapter, too! Keep on reading!  
XXAlter: ****That's why I named the category 'Predicted Class'. It's a combination of her true nature, her character development in this story in the near future, as well as her origins in Persona 3. It may change in the future if I use her as a proper Servant in a crossover or something. Good observation, though, with sound logic.  
T-B-R: ****Not at this moment, no. I'm honestly not too sure how to develop her characters in-story, so I'll hold my judgement on that one.**

* * *

All of a sudden, Atalanta is having another one of her mood swings.

Fortunately, this one swings from unhappy to happy – I've had enough of it if it's the other way around, mostly because she's a bother to others, not to me. I've heard from them, for instance Medusa, how clingy and insufferable she is when she's in that kind of mood…

Hang on – that's not much different how she usually acts spoiled around me, is it?

Well, to my eyes, her figure at that time is always enamoring and adorable, so perhaps I'm heavily biased for her. I _am_ her husband, after all… so maybe my words about her don't hold much weight. How her lightly tanned skin, flawless even after a lifetime spent in the wilderness, flush just the perfect shade of red, and how her upturned eyes, fluffy ears and tail brush against me, and how her scent – both magical and her pheromones – overpower my senses, making my head light…

Ah, I am hopelessly in love with her, aren't I?

Her love for me is almost perfectly replicated in the artificial emotional processor all Heroic Vessels have, before being reflected and showcased with my body. This isn't even 100% accurate… which means she holds an even greater affection level for me than what I'm feeling for her now.

To be frank, that thought is both flattering and slightly scary.

It's far, _far_ beyond what I feel for Medusa and Medea – and, in turn, simulates imperfectly their adoration of me – to the point of fanaticism and worship, perhaps.

Now, I _really _don't want to confront her about this.

It's only gotten to this level recently, after our marriage… which sounds logical, I guess, if not for the extreme levels she reaches, and my own soaring desire for her as a result. Medusa, having spent the most time with me right after Atalanta, is a considerable distance behind in second, though that too is growing rapidly. I can feel Medea's confusion of the new sensations she's feeling, after years of being cooped up in her father's castle and coping with how reality blends with her imagination of me, which is sourced from the stories she read.

Which, in turn, makes it difficult for me to shake all three of them off, when they're pinning my body down with their soft asscheeks.

"May I politely ask what's going on?" Trying to remain as calm and level-headed as possible with three beautiful girls blanketing my lower body under their passionate gazes, I ask, "It's not another prank from your patron goddesses, is it? If so, then I'm not laughing!"

"'Tis divine message!" Atalanta insists, pushing her face close from the side.

Due to their respective sizes, it's not a big difference in weight among the three. If it's a few months ago, then yes, Medusa should've been in the middle due to her incomparably petite frame. However, after her growth spurt, they're all quite similar in sizes – perhaps Atalanta was the tallest of them if I count her cat ears as well.

"That's what I mean by a 'prank'. I'm sure of it – try to report to Artemis, and she'll confirm my suspicions," I point out drily.

"I… I-I agree with M-Miss Atalanta…" Medea murmurs, taking hold of my arm by wrapping it with her entire body, pressing her teenage curves upon me. "I… _see_ it too, other than hearing it."

"You shouldn't believe everything you read and listen these days," I try to weasel my way out of it, but it's clear her eyes hold a conviction her stuttering tone doesn't.

I look at Medusa, trying to silently plead for help, but she's even more hopeless.

\- Nom.

Without warning, she just leans forward and sinks her soft, nubile lips into my lower neck, near my chest, and cutely sucks on the blood with feverish expression.

"Hey! No cutting in line!" Medea hurriedly says, trying to dislodge the Gorgon from licking my blood drunkenly, but her physical strength is clearly outmatched. "S-Sir Shirō… M-Miss Atalanta… what do I do?!"

\- Chupu.

My wife simply ignores her question and steals my lips, locking it in a wet dance between our tongues. Her ears and tail are already out in full force, all trembling and shivering and getting taut in pleasure.

"A-AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH…! H-Hawawa…" Medea, being left behind, looks around, confused what to do.

It's all because Atalanta suddenly showed up earlier, with the other two girls in tow, and demanded something ridiculous.

"_Give us your children! Now!"_

Disregarding how she sounded more like a bandit than a prim-and-proper housewife, adventurer, or princess, she summarily dragged me and the other two, threw us on the main bed in our room at the inn, and started this whole process.

I'm quite sure something has happened with Artemis, of how she suddenly gained a strike of inspiration… and promptly told her chief priestess and champion about it. Perhaps Athena had a hand in it, too… or what about Hera? Those two were as good a suspect as any, but I can't be sure until I go in there and let it rip against them for doing something utterly normal for a deity, but one I completely loathe.

To order a person for no particular reason but their own entertainment.

I won't be a hypocrite and say I'm not enjoying the situation. There's no need to even mention my wife – a person who one is married with will definitely bring forth more happiness the closer they are to each other. Both Medusa and Medea are fertile, of-marriageable-age females… and otherworldly beauties to boot. My knowledge of their future selves' appearance, where their current softer features mature and bloom into… well, _bombshells_, for a lack of a better word, does not help. At all.

\- Nom.

Ah, now, as I'm thinking of other things, Medusa have found another spot to bite into, her lips puckering like the end of a balloon in a manner eerily reminiscent of her smaller self, along with her inflated soft cheeks. There's no doubt if I push my fingers into them, they'll just sink right in with a divine plushiness.

That is, if they're actually free, as Atalanta has released her arms' grip around my neck from her earlier kiss and starts seductively sucking on it, giving me a premonition of her action in the near future.

Medea finally steels herself, it appears, as she immediately replaces Atalanta's occupation of my mouth without giving me a second to say anything else, almost in fear she'll lose her place in this room if she doesn't do anything, fast.

Relenting at the insistence of these three girls, even though I have my doubts about Medea's clearness of conscience, I wrap a free hand around Medea's waist and lay my desires bare.

Medusa, sensing my towering erection behind my pants, grinds her crotch into it as she enjoys herself with my blood to the point of euphoria. I'm not even sure she's fully conscious of what she's doing right now – my sensory experience is focused on the damp, squishy meat tracing the outline of my dick through my pants.

\- Squirt.

"Ahn~ "

A small trickle of liquid splashes as she goes particularly rough on one of her movements – the sensation strong enough to elicit an erotic moan from her slim lips… and away from two blood-trickling spots near my neck.

* * *

It's been a few weeks after our successful return from Atlantis. While we all returned with mostly positive feelings, some doubt still lingered from our experiences there.

Firstly, the Adventurers' Guild has apparently issued a Greece-wide request for low- to mid-level adventurers to assist in potential relocation of shoreline inhabitants. I wasn't sure who leaked out the news of Atlantis's destruction so quickly after it happened – heck, it's probably spread when I was still treating Hecate – but I was shocked how quick and efficient everyone moved and did the request without complaining.

It all ended up as nothing in the end, though, and the adventurers returned back grumpily. It cost the Guild quite a sum of money, which I was going to reimburse back then, as I dread my own explanation of the events right after that.

Someone has forcibly taken control over Poseidon's loose [Ocean] Authority, and stopped a potential nation-wide disaster from happening.

While I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, the identity of that individual, or group, was still unknown. I had to do more investigations in this regard, because I simply disliked loose ends. I sincerely hoped it won't come down to another conflict, as I was grateful nothing untoward happened due to our actions, but there's no fault in knowing everything to prepare for eventualities.

I had a few candidates in mind, but I'd only share them with Alaya to gain confirmation first. There were limitations in what each one of us could do, and it's useful to collaborate and corroborate data between us.

We celebrated the completion of mission humbly, because of the frustration floating around the adventurers how they're sent to do a useless grunt work just to cover for the _Argo_'s crews' 'mistakes', though I'd verbally argue anyone they're necessary to achieve the victory in the way we did. If we let Ars Goetia ran amok with control over Poseidon, the damage would be far worse than a few tsunamis and floods.

Additionally, Herakles was still sulking over his treatment post-mission on the ship, and has run off to quietly have dinner with his family. With the merry-maker gone, most of the concluding dinner lacked the 'sizzle' he usually brought with his behavior, so we only ate and drank mutely.

I myself wasn't too happy with Circe's absence. Apparently, she duped Atalanta in saying she's asked for permission to leave from me… which was, of course, another witch's lie. It's good enough to fool my wife's senses and instincts, so I couldn't say anything more on that issue. While our physical relationship was sweet as any, our romance fell out quickly, mostly because in my younger years I was focused on too many other things… and she, too, with too many other men.

However, no one would argue we're now good friends. If not, then would I be so desperate in helping Medea to rescue that pink-haired magus from Poseidon's clutches? If it's someone else, I would've considered cutting my losses quickly more, instead of discarding that option right from the start.

There's nothing wrong in wishing to save everyone. However, there were certainly individuals I wished to save more than others.

We did meet up with Andromeda and her team, and they naturally were similarly unhappy of the sudden workload. All in all, they're not earning as much because the potential danger ushered them into accepting the pay without much negotiation, so most of them felt cheated. Achilles seemed to tag along with them, perhaps on the way to reporting to Chiron himself, but we didn't get the chance to speak further.

The only thing I was grateful of in this situation was Medea's condition. She might not take her older apprentice-sister's teasing very well right now, even if her mental trauma of _dying_ was somewhat reset from Hecate's Fifth Magic. Similarly, Circe's bad memories has turned distant – according to Atalanta's observation – from the process. There's a sense of loss of purpose knowing that, since I was used to consoling girls throughout my deployments in this world… but at the same time, I was happy for their rapid recovery.

It's simply a different approach to take between me and Hecate. I believed in accepting and sublimating one's fears and trauma, because they both had great potential in increasing all aspects of one's strength. However, Hecate's Fifth Magic, [Grand Blue Fantasy], wiped all connection between the individual and the event with a particularly original and strong [Fate Rejection], leaving it as a distant recollection of a stranger. With aspects of [Time] and [Mnemonics], it's the highest-level recovery magic surpassing even Avalon's [Rejection] attribute.

Well, the latter could also be attributed to its users' abilities. I, Artoria, Mordred, Kiritsugu Emiya, EMIYA, and so on had different methods and affinities to it, so it's difficult to get a consistent baseline to compare it to other artifacts and methods.

In any case, during my own thoughts, most of the _Argo_'s crew has already excused themselves, leaving me and the three girls alone.

* * *

\- Fwip.

As if they've practiced this before, Atalanta swiftly takes off Medusa's thin sleeping robe, exposing her gentle swells with hardened nipples and drenched thighs. Her long purple hair is undone, leaving in snaking across my entire body, and even covering some of the other girls' body.

"Ahm… Nom~ " Having her feeding frenzy interrupted before by her mini-orgasm and this stripping, she quickly latches on to my body once again, whose lips are still dueling with Medea's inexperienced one, seeking pleasure all the time.

From the corners of my eyes, I can appreciate how red Medusa's entire body is, from head to toe, as she lovingly looks up to meet my gaze as she continues to slurp small amounts of blood from my body. However, that view is blocked when Atalanta raises her body higher, placing one of my palm to one of her chest and begins kneading it with her own from its back.

Predictably, her nipple is as hard as diamond, though she's keeping her composure better than the two younger girls.

\- Squelch.

"Mnn!" Medea stiffens when my other hand, now freed from her earlier clinging, caresses her similarly-wet crotch, the unfamiliar and shocking sensation causing her to tremble greatly. However, she persists in trying to dominate me using my tongue, which clearly isn't going to work since her techniques are derived from romance novels, instead of real life.

\- Squelch. Squelch. Squelch.

Her movements become even more erratic and irrational once my caresses turn into lightly fingering her entrance. She moaned and yelped loudly into my mouth, still not giving up yet, but it's clear she's about to climax soon, especially after my strokes grow longer to include her puffy outer lips and clitoris.

\- Srrt.

Having never have her outer case peeled off before, exposing the bright red nub to the air, she shivers and hisses lightly at the light irritation. It's a similar sensation to when a man's phimosis is first peeled back, either gently or roughly, though due to the higher concentration of nerves bundled at the entirety of the clitoris's outer body, it should be both more painful and pleasurable for Medea with this action.

"H-Hyan~ ! M-Medusa…!"

\- Nom.

Atalanta bends forward to kiss my cheeks and nibble on my ears lovingly, but she's interrupted just after the first few pecks by Medusa switching targets from my hardened upper muscles to her flexible neck. Cybele flashes momentarily, replacing the pain of having her blood drawn forcibly into pleasure, enabling her to feast easier and more comfortably.

The young girl has also practiced what I taught her during our nights together – Atalanta enjoys having her bestial features played with. Therefore, she reaches out with her hand towards the base of my wife's tail, with a finger also stroking the circumference of her anus. I free my hand from her palm, which was pressing it onto her chest, and make my way down to the thin bush so familiar in texture to me.

Unlike Medea, I can enter the entire length of my middle finger inside her incredibly tight snatch. It's not easy, for sure, as her abdominal muscles are the most defined among the other girls – and that's even after I have plenty of loving sex after our wedding night, molding her walls around my dick. It's simply a reflexive reaction to the insertion and the pleasure it brings, which will constrict even further when she orgasms, with enough strength I estimate to be able to break wood.

"Mmmhhh! S-Shirōōōōōōōōōōōō…" she huskily groans near my face, to which I break off Medea's kiss and kiss her in turn. Her sharp nails dig into my flesh, now sharper than ever due to her bestial transformation and uncontrollable strength, drawing blood Medusa gladly licks up. "H-Haahhh… N-Not your fingers…!"

"I understand," I say, slightly breathless myself, knocking Medea and Medusa off my body and maneuvering Atalanta onto her back. "This… Let this tell you never to do these kinds of things as a surprise again!"

\- Churu!

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! I-I'm sorryyyyyyy…!"

The sudden thrust pushes her over the edge, and as I expect, her inner walls clench dangerously powerfully with an orgasm. Her scream makes Medea jump lightly, clearly not used to seeing another woman being drilled so roughly at the first thrust, as well as a proper orgasm from an experienced wife. Atalanta's legs go taut, lifting her hips to an angle where the tip of my cock easily kisses the opening of her womb, earning another animalistic groan from her.

\- Pan! Pan! Pan! Pan! Pan! Pan! Pan! Pan! Pan! Pan! Pan! Pan! Pan!

"Hahi! Argh…! H-Haannnn~ ! Hahi! Argh…! H-Haannnn~ ! Hahi! Argh…! H-Haannnn~ ! Hahi! Argh…! H-Haannnn~ ! Hahi! Argh…! H-Haannnn~ ! Hahi! Argh…! H-Haannnn~ ! Hahi! Argh…! H-Haannnn~ ! Hahi! Argh…! H-Haannnn~ !"

"M-Medea… pay attention t-to this… and make up your mind!" I warn her once again, just so to confirm her decision to lie with me, unlike most other men in Greece. My voice cracks funnily every now and then as Atalanta's erratic orgasms wrap around me every now and then, sending waves of pleasure through my spine. "D-Do you accept m-me… as your partner…?!"

The magus squirms, letting her long ponytail – glistening with sweat – sways this way and that. Her face contorts with the mix of emotions I'm sure she's feeling: anticipation, confusion, arousal, risk appraisal… and eventually, love.

She leans her head towards my shoulder, which is still shaking vigorously as my hips slam into Atalanta's deep and tight pussy. Her slender arms, lacking my wife's and Medusa's powerful musculature, struggle to wrap their way around my thick torso in a hug.

Whispering softly, almost to the point of being drowned out by Atalanta's cries, she declares, "I… will have no other man than you, Sir Shirō. Nor can I think of a better objective candidate."

"Spoken like a true magus!" I grunt, before adding, "Excuse me f-for a while…"

I separate from her to bite onto Atalanta's hardened nipples, matching Medusa who's already working that area anyway, eliciting a pleased scream from the princess. Slowly, I make my way up, play-biting her unblemished skin and leaving red crescents across her body, in a slow, ritual-like tempo – almost like an alpha male marking his mate. She enjoys this kind of play, because the widespread use of Magecraft meant those kinds of marks are quickly healed back into perfection anyway.

Medusa's bite marks are smaller but deeper, because she's seriously biting into the flesh, while mine are more playful and combined with gentle sucking.

By now, Atalanta's words have become incoherent, before I reach her lips and fully seal her loud moans with mine.

\- Dobyu! Dobyu! Dobyu!

* * *

"H-Hawawa…" Medea was tempted to cover her eyes with her fingers, but the sheer intensity of the situation, combined with her healthy teenage desires, made her unable to do anything else but burn the scene in front of her into her mind. "S-So this is… m-mating…?"

"Umu," Medusa suddenly replies from _very close to her_, causing her to jump slightly, but failed because Medea's body was hugged tight by the other girl. "So don't you dare cut in line."

"O-Okay…?" The young magus answered hesitantly, clearly feeling the pressure emitted from Medusa's near-full-body stranglehold. Despite looking like a slim young lady, almost the same size as Medea, her physical strength and flexibility was truly something else, holding the magus's thighs down with her own in an angle she thought impossible to achieve by a normal human. "Y-You can go second…"

"Umu."

\- Nom.

"Kyah!"

Medusa's bite was… surprisingly euphoric.

Medea didn't know what just happened, but a sensation similar to a lightning shock spread from the bite mark throughout her whole body, making her dizzy and weak inside Medusa's hold. "M-Medusa… Ahhh…"

Unbeknownst to her, the Gorgon had accumulated a myriad of substances she could deploy at any time from her bites. Normally, she only used a mixture of coagulant and thinner to control the outflow of blood from her 'sources', who're usually Shirō and Atalanta – more due to her unfamiliarity and lack of control over her own power and recognition of her true self. Much like a snake, she 'molted' several times to reach this level of maturity and confidence, and could now utilize more of her Gorgon powers.

It's a skill derived from the combination of the Gorgon sisters' Saint Graphs, bestowed by Persephone as a favor to Athena earlier. Unlike Medusa, her sisters' paralyzing powers came from the need to charm and domesticate human beings, so they could use them as slaves when they were still alive. Her own Cybele, meanwhile, were purely a weapon for combat. Thus, when combined, the resulting skill could perhaps freeze S-Rankers like Shirō or Herakles in place.

Still, Medusa needed more practice in controlling the finer details. Therefore, spying a fresh, soft prey right in front of her, distracted from the sex – and the admittedly amazing face Atalanta was making – she jumped at the opportunity.

Initially, even with her new family members, she only used a slight aphrodisiac element in her bites to ease the pain. Just this concentration was enough to overwhelm it and turn her victims on – usually Atalanta, who had lower resistance than her husband – so what would happen if she increased the dosage?

Not that she'd do that to Medea. She realized her body was fully human, despite having divine origins, so even her usual amount would permanently disable the magus – so she simply tried out different blends, now that the chance had presented itself to her.

"MMMMMMMMMGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Besides, it seemed she wouldn't have much time, since Shirō was ejaculating fiercely into Atalanta and was about to finish. Their lips were gently locked together, enabling her fierce scream to leak out, which aroused both Medea and Medusa even more. The former had likely lost her mind from the latter's bite, since it's along the line of her usual aphrodisiacs, just tailored to Medea's physical specification.

For instance, a muscle relaxant so the magus could squirt easier from both holes in her crotch. It did have a risk Medea would just pee and defecate all over the place, but the latter was practically impossible, since Atalanta had made sure all of them had cleaned themselves, inside and out, before they engage in this activity.

More importantly, it must have a substance which would help the informal deflowering ceremony, to ease the pain and internal body reformation once a virgin accepts a man.

She was simply curious. Did different women ejaculate differently? How much was the variation of their screams, moans, groans, and other sounds? Did it impact Shirō's physical satisfaction? Or would any of the success of the above points only work on him, and not lesser men?

Her child-like mind, in contrast to her rapidly-maturing body, still retained its curiosity in odd situations.

\- Dobyu! Dobyu! Dobyu!

'_Oh, I can hear Mr. Penis shooting out…'_ she drily comments, enjoying herself several laps of Medea's blood.

Compared to the other two, it's certainly of lower quality, though it didn't mean it tasted unappealing. Shirō and Atalanta were simply that much of an outlier – one an S-Ranker with mysterious human origin, the other a mortal priestess so heavily blessed by Artemis her own purity of bloodline was in doubt.

Exquisite, the two of them, beyond even the forbidden and loathsome taste of her sisters' flesh and bones – a memory she'd keep with her forever, as a warning to never lose herself again.

Medea's blood was… _human_. Like most of her victims back in Sarpedon, but certainly of high quality.

_Royalty_. That's the word.

She heard Medea had divine blood running through her… but Medusa couldn't really differentiate whatever traces it had from simply a delicious, well-bred human blood. Quite thin, perhaps – or she descended from beings with low Divinity.

Drinking blood was an acquired taste. Different people, different background, different races, different circumstances would produce different flavors. It'd take an accomplished palate to savor them all properly and respectfully, in order to bring out the greatest epicurean joy in one's mouth.

'_And I'm the best!'_ She proudly declared in her heart.

Who could surpass the blood quality of these two in front of her – her most beloved family members? She could boast to have dined on the finest blood in the world, a privilege unknown to most, and a subject of jealousy to the few.

Shirō always had a strong iron burst in the first sip, before the flavor bloomed and expanded into a complex mixture filled with various spices and sharp scents. Some were similar to charcoal-roasted game, others were of the stinging warmth of peppers and flames. And, on the blood's final journey down her throat, an earthy aftertaste would fill her nasal chamber, making her feel like she's cocooned in a safe, powerful earthen natural cave.

Speaking of nature, Atalanta's blood was its embodiment. The first drip was cold as mountain dew in the early dawn, refreshing Medusa's palate for the following taste. Then, woody herbs and floral spices followed, both meaty and cleansing at the same time. What Medusa initially thought was lacking turned out to be a delicacy, as she's used to tasting the richness of fat inside most people's blood – but Atalanta's was lean, yet powerful, similar to dried game lathered with peppercorns.

This taste was the latest she could describe from the sample she had just now, because minute details changed throughout their time together.

To Medusa, the more time they spent together, the more delicious it'd become.

That's why she'd start early with Medea, to groom and fatten her into a nice snack box in the future.

"Medea, can I ask you a favor?" The Gorgon softly speaks to the flustered young magus. "Can you preserve both of our virgin blood later?"

"H-Huh…?" Medea struggled to regain her bearing as Medusa's saliva circulated in her system. "W-What for…?"

As expected of Hecate's disciple, she still regained her intelligence somewhat. Perhaps she had experience in potion- and poison-making?

Disregarding that – since Medusa wasn't even aiming for complete subjugation of the putty young girl – she replied, "Because they're tasty."

"E-Eh…?"

\- Pat.

"You can cut that out, Medusa. I don't want it this way."

A masculine hand rubbed her head in a pleasing manner, earning Shirō a cute purr from the Gorgon. While it looked absolutely spot on when she did that with her smaller form, doing it in her current form only showcased her budding curves and flushed teenage body to him. Meanwhile, a strong stench of sexual fluids now filled the air, as several thick squirts of mixed fluids plopped out of Atalanta's spread legs, limply hanging by her side.

"Yes, Shirō," Medusa didn't argue and did as she was told, sucking back out her saliva along with a final flurry of blood.

\- Ssssllllllllluuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrppppppppppppp…

"Ha… H-Hahi… Higuh…!" Medea trembled violently as the pleasure finally sent her over the edge once again, but fortunately, Medusa's treatment didn't end up in what she predicted, so the bed was still relatively unsoiled beneath her. "K-Kyah!"

The intense pleasure brought back her consciousness to full, and she squeaked when she realized her disposition in front of the man she loved.

However, he stretched out and hugged her, saying, "This is why I constantly ask you about this decision of yours. I don't doubt your feelings or its sincerity – and I love you similarly – but your body hosts a great treasure trove for magi. Are you sure… to sacrifice some of that away for me? I assure you I won't feel differently for you."

Normally, she'd answer straight away, but the combination of the weight of his words, her just-recovered condition, as well as the sight of Shirō approaching her with his penis hanging down, coated liberally with sexual fluids, made her hesitate.

To magi – especially those with the title of 'Witch', like Hecate, Circe, and Medea – virginity was an important aspect towards everything physical about Magecraft, both about the body and the ingredients one worked with. That's why body parts from virgins – either male or female – were highly valued as catalysts in various rituals, alchemy, or item crafting. One's entire virgin body could also be used as an artifact to contract with specific higher-levelled beings, such as the unicorn.

Once he deflowered her, Medea would no longer had access to these things. The only precious leftover was her virgin blood, and even that was of little value to her brand of Magecraft. Her genius allowed her to use any mundane ingredient and efficiently used them to create object more than the sum of its parts. Her own blood, hair, and bodily fluids were good enough to serve as necessary ingredients, and as such, the difference in impact between her hymen's blood and regular one was negligible.

To Medusa, that was the ultimate delicacy for her – even if outsiders might view consuming one's virgin blood as an extreme act of cannibalism. Again, it's due to how sacred the concept of [Virginity] was, even in this age where Mystery was abundant. It's definitely important in the modern age, where Magecraft had declined, leading to many crime sprees involving virgins, both mundane and magical.

There's also the political and social issues of bedding a Princess of Colchis without the knowledge of her father, but Shirō never placed him high in his priorities anyway, so he'd shoulder the backlash no matter what.

Besides, he placed more importance on Medea's personal feelings.

Like he said before, having spent time with her, however short when compared to Atalanta or even Medusa, his artificial emotional processing generator had already reflected the intensity and purity of her feelings for him. As he's already well on his way, as a Heroic Vessel, to properly create and showcase his own emotions, said reflection only pushed him to fall for her even more, instinctively striving to match hers.

However, before Medea could answer, their hug was forcibly broken by Medusa squeezing her way between them.

"Muu… I'm first! Shirō!" She pouted and whined, in a tone more fitting with her smaller self. "Breed with me!"

\- Chu.

Like a snake striking its prey, she launched her lips against his, before skillfully entangling her limbs around him and placed the tip of his half-hardened shaft near her opening.

However, the intensity of her movements suddenly died down when she separated from the kiss, and she gazed lovingly at the man who saved and changed her fate and life.

At that moment, between Medea and Shirō, the two of them saw a woman, instead of an oversized little girl.

With her long hair splayed around them like wild, uncontrolled snakes, much longer and enviably more naturally beautiful than Medea's carefully maintained one, not to mention Atalanta's wild gold-jade mane, the violet sea looked alive, wrapping her budding curves in a perfect dress.

Shirō helplessly smiled at her loveliness, as well as innocent insistence. "By your will, my dear Medusa."

\- Srrt… Pcht!

She gasped for air at the insertion, but she handled the pain surprisingly well, with nary a tear forming in her eyes. Her eyes flickered between her regular lilac and Cybele's dazzling purplish diamond glitter, with her long, snake-like tongue hanging outwards in pleasure. From her position, Medea could see a glint from her cute protruding fangs, used to give herself so much pleasure earlier, and the sight of the young girl she just met being taken by a man almost immediately moistened her sensitive crotch once again.

"You shouldn't rush. Can you feel it? Just little by little; spreading you open…" he cajoled and whispered into Medusa's ears, but she simply answered by shaking her hips and plunging her body down the entire length of his cock, just as she did with the first thrust.

Her boldness made Medea gulp. She watched with both amazement and trepidation how _that thing_ – already at the circumference of the thinnest spot on her wrist – spread Medusa's tight virgin snatch wide open, pistoning over and over again. And it's still expanding, since Medusa first put it into her body when it's not fully recovered from ejaculating its contents inside Atalanta.

…almost to the point she forgot her unspoken deal with Medusa earlier.

Without any incantation, she waved her index finger and collected the still-moist blood covering Shirō's dick, along with the slimy, clear-white fluids flowing out of the opening of Medusa's womb and drenching Shirō down to his balls. Further processing would be necessary, similar to the chemistry of transferring blood, but it's good enough for now.

She certainly didn't have the mental disposition to do more, such was her captivation of the scene in front of her, similar to how she felt when Atalanta had the first go.

Speaking of which, the Arcadian princess gingerly flipped onto her stomach and crawled onto all fours towards them, slowly pacing herself like an approaching lioness.

"Welcome to our family once again, Medusa," she proudly declared with a wide smile on her face, one so alien to outsiders it became a myth.

Princess Atalanta… smiling? Surely, that's a joke!

"Y-Yesh… t-thank you f-for having me…" Medusa slurred her reply, already under the bewitching grasp of sexual pleasure.

Truly, a cardinal sin. Once any being had a taste of it, it's impossible for them to abstain from doing it again and again and again for a prolonged period of time. An act more addictive than any drug, and a desire more appealing than any riches.

Atalanta went further and tongue-kissed Medusa as Shirō continued to pound her again and again, as the three of them were lost in their own world. To him, she felt even tighter than his wife during their first time, mostly because Medusa lacked the control necessary to lessen the blow, much less give pleasure to him.

And, to be frank, the first initial series of thrusts didn't feel good. _At all._

'Tight' and 'lack of control' were an understatement. He feared what would happen if her entire existence lost her current stability and reverted back to her smaller self – much as she was alluring no matter her size, it'd quite literally kill a normal human being. He was tempted to Reinforce his cock just to ease its expansion, because the sensory input, while partially pleasurable, wasn't strong enough to make him fully erect the way he usually was.

After a while, though… No, scratch that. It's necessary to give Medusa the proper treatment he gave his wife, to respect her love for him.

"Ugh… G-GUHIII…!" Medusa choked in air as she felt the dick inside her expand greatly, before settling and pushing up on her cervix door. "S-SHIRŌŌŌŌŌ…!"

\- Shlosh. Shlosh. Shlosh. Chupu. Chupu. Chupu.

"Ahe~ A-Aghagh… G-Guho~ I-IIIIIIYYYYYYAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHNNNN!"

He angled his thrusts and scoops differently each time, trying to gauge where Medusa was sensitive, and where she disliked it, compiling the database inside his head.

"Ah, she can accommodate you fully until your balls… I am jealous…" Atalanta muttered to his ear, earning a cheeky grin from the climaxing Medusa. From where she's seated, she could clearly see the tip of his long rod poking lightly through from underneath Medusa's navel.

Yes, it did fit, but only just.

Their body sizes were quite similar, to be fair. It's simply Medusa's inhuman and more flexible constitution, compared to Atalanta who's originally and mostly human. There's also the hypothesis the Gorgon reproduced differently from her or others, so this initial step was an important procedure in understanding their newest family member completely.

\- Chu.

"'Tis fine, Shirō. This wife of yours is happy if Medusa is to your liking," Atalanta replied, pushing off his kiss to abate her apparent negative comment. "I was the one to push for this, thus her quality falls under my responsibility."

"It didn't really relieve me if you put it that way," he complained, still erratically shaking and rotating his hips every which way to widen Medusa's inner walls. Truly, even after several series of orgasms, she still hadn't relaxed – or, rather, it only pushed her to go wilder and wilder every time. "On the contrary – how are you, Medusa? If I'm hurting you, then…"

"NO! THIS IS SHOOO GGHHHUUUUDDDDD! D-DON'T STOP!"

Atalanta's pointed stare only added to that question, before she went to straddle the masturbating Medea.

\- Schlick… Schlick… Schlick…

She reached one hand out to the younger girl, taking a place between her legs and massaged several points along Medea's inner thighs. Both of their faces were flushed – the magus more so, with a slow dribble of saliva flowing down her lips – and Medea hissed at the difference in body temperature between them.

Atalanta's were a distinct mix between the refreshing dawn breeze and a scalding hot female beast. Not a homogenous one, but an alternating sensation of cold and warmth.

"W-What… Miss Atalanta…" Unfortunately, with the addition of her own touches, her brain wasn't working at its maximum right now. Medusa's fluids still had lingering effects, despite the full concoction already being sucked out. "I… I…"

\- Chu.

"Enjoying my performance earlier?"

"A-Ah! I w-wouldn't dare…!" She shyly whispered, though her fingers didn't stop rubbing themselves over her slit. "I… Y-You were beautiful!"

"Thank you."

It was the most earnest praise Atalanta had ever heard from someone other than Shirō and Medusa.

Therefore, she'd return the favor.

"Now that they are busy, allow me to prepare you…"

* * *

Medea had lost track how much time had passed. How long had it been since she saw Medusa's deflowering?

Fortunately, she still had the presence of mind earlier to collect her virgin blood, because she didn't know what's going on around her anymore.

The pleasure was beyond her wildest dreams.

That large thing… should hurt, right? Disregarding what the mature fantasies written down in various tomes she read, if a real couple did it with such a difference in physiques, then the least of the things they needed to worry about was soft tissue tears from their genitals. That's the main reason why future society looked down upon a relationship containing an unripe physical body, either male or female, mainly because of the dangers posed onto them.

A mature cock driving carelessly into a child pussy would simply rip apart the surrounding soft tissues, potentially permanently damaging the latter's fertility, without even calculating the influence it'd have on the female child. An immature, tiny dick being forced to be erect and swallowed by a ripened pussy had the potential to receive serious rashes from the friction, as well as injured hips from the weight of the older female.

So why didn't it hurt? Medea did know some spells to prepare for that, but she's certain she wasn't fully aware of what she's doing earlier, when Sir Shirō was finished with Medusa and she practically threw herself at him, worried to not get a turn.

After all, a man's physical stamina was limited. What if he was tired and didn't desire her any longer? That's a decent possibility, no matter how the erotic stories she's secretly fond of would portray improbably virile men who could have sex for days and weeks.

That said, what happened perhaps went along the ideals of her dreams, because both Shirō and Atalanta got a lot of embarrassing answers out of her.

"_Ah? Do you touch yourself often?"  
"Who do you think of when you climax?"  
"Ufufu… Can you tell me where you're weak?"  
"It's alright… Be honest, and yell out your desires…"_

And so forth, and so forth.

"Uuu…"

As the memories came back intermittently, her face simply burnt up with shame, causing her to squirm and bury her head into the cushion she's been sleeping on.

If she was to be honest with herself, she perhaps went a _little _too crazy during the sex… because it went very, _very_ well in accordance to her fantasies. In fact, Sir Shirō went out of his way to accommodate her wishes, allowing her to take some of the lead and instructing him what she wanted to do.

Including all of those dirty little fetishes she stored deep, _deep_ inside her.

Therefore, she didn't really remember most of the details of what had happened… only for the fact she likely now bore a child inside her belly.

Who knew? Perhaps they needed a few more 'sessions' to confirm it…

\- Rub. Rub. Rub.

"Good morning, Medea," Atalanta said gently, patting Medea's shivering violet hair into her modest chest. "Was it such a good dream that you are trembling in excitement?"

Medea sniffled onto the older woman's bare skin, the tips of the latter's softened nipples rubbing her cheeks. The scent of dried sweat and semen, as well as Atalanta's natural lovely body odor, entered the magus's nose… but it's a scent she'd grown familiar with very quickly last night, having consumed it in great quantities through all of her holes.

Under her, she could feel the springy muscles of the female archer – soft at just the right places, and firm at others. The thin pubic hair tickled Medea's stomach, as she mewled under the pampering usually reserved to Shirō.

On that note, he had requested her to drop the 'Sir', since they're practically husband and wife now.

"Mmmnnn… It's wonderful," she admitted, returning with a shy smile. She squirmed upwards, giving the other princess a chaste kiss to the chin. "It was my first… with a woman too. You… were great."

"Ufufu… I shall take that compliment gratefully," Atalanta replied, hugging her more tightly. "You were so adorable and lovely, along with being too tempting."

Their conversation caused a stir beside them, where Medusa was sleeping inside Shirō's arms. Already facing them, he simply opened his eyes and greeted, "Good morning."

That was the best morning in Medea's life.


	28. Olympian Stories

**Hello, everyone! Happy to see you again after so long! Now, I know there's some rough spots in the previous chapter, but I'm mostly satisfied how it all come together, because it fulfilled my desire to incorporate story into the sex scenes as well, instead of just pure smut. Sorry if I disturbed your private moments! Hahaha!  
**

**Alright, back to normal chapter. Not going to say much more apart from announcing we're firmly into the second part of the story, which will also be the last. I'm not too sure how to break this story into proper arcs like I did with HV-S01: RKR, so I'll just say it like this. Well, given how the omakes are spaced roughly evenly apart, you can also use that as a marker to divide the story nicely. Your choice. Future chapters will include more PoVs from other characters, not necessarily from our main quartet. As always, let me know what you think of this chapter first.**

**Important mailbag ahead!  
****Mo Eazy: I expected this comment, TBH, after re-reading it several times and deciding not to change things. First of all, a slight correction: that was my first full-lemon chapter published on this site, and not my first piece full-stop. Like I mentioned many times before, I want to gauge how FFn judge which things to ban and which things they let go. I ended up with this awkward combination of actual sex scenes and plot storytelling, as well as some hyper-realistic life-thinking from anyone participating in the act who's the most sober in the room. ****Thank you for the review in any case. I feel until I fully publish a series of lemon stories, where no plot is required to move the story forward, that I'll stick to this style for a while. Your criticisms are very valid because, like I said, I do feel the same way when I re-read it. Personally, I'm not a fan of sudden chapter insertions in a story where it doesn't give it anything other than fanservice, so I'll do my best to blend in the plot developments and character thoughts next time. That's why my self-proclaimed 'omake' with Perseus & co. aren't the fully-comedic and non-canon stories the readers may be used to - I want to make them to complement the story as much as possible. ****And yes, I'm very influenced by early TYPE-MOON's style of writing erotic scenes. As much as I lambast them for it, suddenly I write that way. Funny how things become, huh?  
Dimihd: ****Appreciate the heads-up, which showed you actually read the AN! To recap what you missed: some MacGuffin items for future chapters will be introduced here; some more explanation of how the girls' and SHIRO's emotions develop and change (mostly for the better); some foreshadowing for the future. Hopefully this will clear things up if you're confused at some point in future chapters.  
PasiveNox, 98kazer, T-B-R, SolarxBlack, Stratos263, xavier0jim: Glad you all like the chapter!  
**

* * *

"I am what you can call a 'Heroic Vessel', partner of Alaya, the one who holds the Authority of [Human]," I straightforwardly answer Athena's question, much to her surprise.

What? It's not as if it's a secret too important to keep between allies. While it's prudent to estimate the abilities of those I share this with, Alaya never orders me outright to hide it no matter what. For instance, I don't particularly feel comfortable sharing this fact with my wives purely because of the threats they face on a daily basis just by being with me. Those who target us have the capability to extract this information from them, most likely in an unsavory manner – therefore I have to tone it down around them; use white lies instead of the actual truth.

With Athena, though? She's definitely capable, along with Hecate. If I can't talk about this thing around them, then no one else is qualified.

Atalanta hasn't been mentioning the Dream Cycles she's having. I guess that's due to her… _unique_ way of thinking and looking at things; Medusa and Medea haven't spent enough time with me yet – and not enough sex – to let that phenomenon naturally seep through their consciousness. I expect the magus to be more sensitive to it, but perhaps because she's still going through puberty, she has more things to worry about than an old man's (in relative terms) past and true identity.

Medusa is harder to gauge, chiefly because she herself doesn't know how to do so properly. And neither do the rest of us, including Athena – the young girl's true constitution, life experience, and her sisters' influence make it a guessing game most of the time.

"_Mn! I'm alright, now… My sisters are right here with me! Because the 'Gorgon' isn't someone else, or either one of us… It's right here, with me, the same as me, and I myself – Medusa."_

To be frank, he's not sure whether that statement from her, after he questioned her once, was reassuring or worrying.

Athena was optimistic, however, and cheerfully greeted me as soon as my consummation of my women was over.

One she partially orchestrated.

And one I grant a hit on the head for, leaving a sizeable bump and an "Oww…" from the white-haired goddess.

"S-So it's fine if I push you to have more children, right?! F-For what did you need to hit me for?!" Athena protests.

\- Bam!

"O-OOOWWWWWWW! S-Stop hitting me… U-Uuuggghhh…!"

"Because you all are the same, apparently," I growl, though knowing her abilities, she's already realized this and still took that decision. "Much as it was enjoyable for me, advantageous for you, and riskless for the rest of humanity, have you ever considered there's something in them which are averse to those actions?"

Artemis is watching this situation from close by, her usual friendly eyes shining with glee and her shoulders tremble with laughter.

What is she doing here? Slacking off again?

To be frank to her, though, these two goddesses in front of me usually do their job most studiously, unlike others. They often hear the plight of their worshipers the best, and make decisions based on what's good in the long run, instead of instinctively and barbarically react violently to cause destruction and mayhem. While this may slow down the ultimate outcome, it's more often than not for the best.

However, Artemis's apparent ability to do so while playing around with other deities is astounding. Perhaps she has a system in place which automatically and precisely make good decisions and answers without her presence? Or is she doing so right now, inside Athena's domain and while looking at our interaction?

Not even Orion knows what precisely is going on in her head, so I'm not quite sure. Said stuffed bear is currently squeezed down to an inch of his life by acting as a comically undersized cushion under Artemis's luscious butt, not even having an opportunity to wheeze out in pain or pleasure under the heavy pressure.

"Now, now, Sir Jason… Don't be too harsh on her…" she lazily comments from the side, not making any real effort to even stand up and get in between us. "She's been working hard…"

She, too, doesn't seem surprised at the revelation of my identity, nor Alaya's existence – at least, not as much as Athena. So it rather proves my suspicion she's a lot more than she lets on, not even in front of Athena.

"It's my duty to criticize and scold you guys if you behave in a manner uncaring of humanity. That's the reason I was born, both as a Heroic Vessel and in this form."

"So you're a blade pointed at our necks? That doesn't sound so bad…"

"Artemis!" Athena shouts at the voluptuous goddess for undermining their own authority and dignity. "That's _never_ a good thing! Even though this man is the most perfect candidate!"

"I agree with what she said," I add, though I say immediately, "Though thank you for your sincerity and confidence – both in myself and your own innocence."

Bowing lightly, I do so in front of the now-flustered Athena – nothing has gone on right now as she expects, which is a rare thing for her. She prides herself in her intelligence and calculative predictions, and while she'll accept several deviation errors – which she prepares accordingly for – it's uncommon for her to literally not know what's going to happen.

Especially because my presence here disrupts such abilities, just like other Heroic Vessels.

Irritatingly, it also means she's ineffective against Pandora, who has the same trait in her existence.

"Fufufu… my pleasure," Artemis giggles. "Though you should save that kind of tone for my child."

I chuckle, shaking my head. "She's received plenty of it already since the last time she saw you. There's nothing wrong in paying compliments to my in-law." Thinking of that phrase for a moment, I correct myself, "Or, rather, my 'in-laws'."

Eyeing Athena, she meekly looks up to me in fear her head will be struck again though I won't do that, the way she does so is reminiscent of her eldest surviving daughter, who's now my wife, despite their different appearances. Still, their similar sizes make me think so, and they're showing more and more emotions lately rather than their old, withdrawn selves.

"Then stop hitting me!"

"I will, if you can explain yourself in a logical way to us humans."

My fist waves in the air, aiming to strike her head once again if she doesn't do so.

"Uuu…" She covers her head in anticipation, before explaining, "We need more vessels for the Authorities left behind by all those people you kill! Your children will be the most excellent candidates, for sure!"

My fist stops mid-flight, as I consider her answer.

After a while, I relent. "…very well. That does sound logical, and I have partial responsibility for all of that. However, aren't you burdening the very same champion who rids you of those nuisances? Where's my reward in return?"

"Three fair maidens aren't enough for you, Sir Jason?" Artemis coos from the side, shifting her weight to give Orion the most hellish and divine experience possible. He still never manages to squeak out a sound, which will concern me if he's still alive. "Two of them are reared by yours truly and Athena, at that. The other one is satisfactory to you as well, no? I'm sure Hecate, if she's here, will confirm my opinions."

"Please don't put words in my patient's mouth," I mimic Asclepius's glare at her, though Artemis certainly isn't affected in any way by it. "And, just for the record, I do find them more than satisfying – fulfilling, and perhaps too good for me. But that's not the point, is it?"

"What is the point is that they're _happy_, dear Jason. Do not let this issue influence your relationship with them."

I close my eyes in frustration. This isn't going anywhere, is it?

Typical of them, I guess. It's already fortunate these two are the most reasonable among them. Despite their best attempt to distance themselves from their progenitors, whom they view as simply masses of unintelligent and uncontrollable universal energy, this trait is always passed down without fail. The Olympians simply can't deny their true nature – simply their differing common sense to humanity and view point of the world.

To them, if everything ends well, then all is well in the end.

I know this is just my personal beef, because I truly am thankful for my wives' existence. Even if their patron goddesses were the ones who pushed them over to me, by manipulating their thoughts, desires, dreams, fates, and so on – directly or indirectly – Alaya also did the same to position me to be able to connect with them the best, all in the name of saving them from their grim futures.

Therefore, I am unfair to these two in a way. I haven't spoken with Hecate for long, but from what I gather from Medea and Circe, she's even more of an oddball compared to Athena and Artemis. However, I heard from the fairies her recovery is going along exceedingly well, unlike what I feared – that her differing origin from the world of Avalon will only hinder her healing.

"Uncle, don't get angry!"

All of a sudden, a pair of thin, stubby arms circle around my waist, and despite the scolding words, the female tone is certainly happy.

"If people deserve to be scolded, Molpadia, then I will do so, no matter who they are. That's what strength grants you," I answer, gently patting my daughter's smiling face.

"Ehehe…" She giggles under my return hug, not caring about my reply.

Meanwhile, I glare back at Athena, who practically kidnapped this girl away from her family. Yes, she asked for Hippolyta's and Penthesilea's permission, but a goddess doing that was more akin to an 'order' than a 'request', holding a force usually absent in the latter. Of course, the people of Amazon were proud their royal princess was chosen by the esteemed Goddess of [War], the sister of their patron god Ares, but there's very little doubt Athena only saw her calculations and not Hippolyta's and Penthesilea's feelings, no matter what they were.

She cowers and covers her head in anticipation of another fist, though Molpadia's position means it's difficult to bop Athena's head once again.

Bending down, I curl my arms underneath Molpadia's armpits, lifting her and hefting her butt over my shoulders to sit her over them.

\- Bam!

…and proceeds to hit Athena's head again, who squeaks in pain.

"M-Molpadia! H-Help your teacher!"

"Don't wanna'!"

"Y-You traitor…!" Athena tries to run, but Artemis smoothly locks her limbs in place with her longer ones, presenting her closer to me to hit easier. "ARTEMIS! W-What are you-!"

"Now, now, you must be just, Athena. Show a good example for your disciple."

"NNNNNOOOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

Having handed Molpadia off to one of Athena's automated trainers, I sit down with the two goddesses in a more formal capacity.

"I still haven't forgiven you about my daughter, just so you know," I begin, eliciting a shiver down Athena's spine. "However, you're taking care of her well, so I'll watch from a distance for now."

Artemis nods in place of her friend. "Alright, alright… Now, shall we get to why we summoned you here?"

"Go ahead."

"Our plan about your children has taken a snag, because Hera is missing. Captured, most likely, because I haven't felt her death like the others." Taking over the conversation from the silent Athena, Artemis suddenly drops a similarly-sized verbal bombshell like what I did earlier when I revealed my true identity. "We'll gloss over what you are – and Alaya – because this takes priority. All I need to know is that you're on our side."

"Isn't that already kinda' obvious?" Orion pips up in the middle of her lap, waving his soft fluffy paws at me. "Just like how you love me, he'll do anything to stop the culprit because he loves his women!"

\- Sqqquuuuuuueeeeeeeeeeeezzzzzzzzeeeeeeeeeeeee…

"Ahem."

"OW! OW! OW! OW! OW! OW! OW! OW! OW! OW! OW! OW! OW! OW! OW!"

"To reiterate his words, we'd like to formally request a search-and-rescue operation from you," Artemis coolly says while scrunching up Orion's body into a ball. "I have several data packets prepared for you-"

"…which _I _prepared," Athena cuts in, scowling. "Therefore…"

"I've found her already."

That statement from me silences the room.

Raising one hand, I explain. "Allow me to elaborate. Alaya and I… have already figured out the identity of the culprit who has been running rampage in Olympus and Greece all this time. I accepted this summon also to report of this finding to the two of you."

Well, I just lied. The two of us have known of Pandora ever since the start, as Alaya briefed me of the potential dangers and changes in this world. My previous deployment to this era had a Pandora who's perfectly neutral, though still apathetic against the gods – and one who wasn't a Heroic Vessel. This world, clearly, was different from the start, ever since Alaya took the decision to induct her into our ranks as one of my predecessors… which went haywire.

The reason this has been left off for so long was because Pandora took a significant amount of time to develop, as well as Alaya's insistent observation of her to gather a full set of data. There's no sense in wasting resources to react instinctively and rashly against someone who still had the possibility to be negotiated with… but its interpersonal ability definitely needed more work.

Which is why I exist, and why Pandora was chosen in the first place. We are the better representatives for Alaya in this world compared to its other Counter Forces, to integrate humanity into the plan it's created to ensure our eternal survival.

If that includes aligning both gods and humans together, making them hold hands childishly and sing around a campfire figuratively, then so be it.

Pandora's hatred of the gods has chronically blinded her to the greater need of humanity, even as Alaya granted her nearly every advantage possible to succeed.

Such a Heroic Vessel needs to be scrapped, and it won't be easy.

"Pandora."

Athena and Artemis inhale sharply, as recognition begins to fill their expressions.

To others, her existence is considered a top-level secret. There's a reason she's buried underneath and near the center of Mount Olympus, after all. She signifies and embodies the failures of the gods… and Zeus doesn't like that. To let their worshippers know the deities they revere aren't perfect, aren't omnipotent, aren't all-seeing.

The thought of asking me how I know this – or, more precisely, Alaya – is unimportant to them. There's no doubt they're now visualizing and simulating the various ways they need to face against the supposedly-perfect 'first human'. Athena will enter her calculation zones, while Artemis's hunting instinct will run at full speed, reaching heights Atalanta will never achieve.

Closing my eyes, I relay my conclusion, "So, because of Hera's current situation, my children will be difficult to conceive with my wives? And, because of the various out-of-control Authorities and Divine Essences, we need them as soon as possible? Molpadia will inherit one – the rest will follow. Are you considering other heroes' offspring?"

Seeing the two goddesses are currently mentally occupied, Orion takes over to answer, despite his frankly now-ridiculous form, "Herakles's… Well, I don't wanna' badmouth that guy, but you feel me? His won't do, and Chiron isn't planning on breaking his self-imposed celibacy after you slaughtered all his brethren down to the last baby, so…"

\- Smack.

Palm, meet face.

Seeing this, the bear plushie continues with pity in his voice, "I know, I know… Can't say I don't understand your plight – but look at me now! You hafta' represent, man! For all the men out there jealous of your fortune! For crying out loud, they're all technically royalty!"

"Do you think I haven't realized that?"

Despite my own current of thoughts, I do realize what an opportunity a man in my position can do. Disregarding Iolchos – because that's easy to deal with – Atalanta holds the only legitimate bloodline to Arcadia's throne. Medea's position is more difficult, but her younger brother, the crown prince, is somewhat obedient to her and resistant to their father's views. Also, Medusa has a _de facto_ blood connection to Athena, serving as a bridge between humanity and the gods.

For sure, our children will be embroiled in quite the power struggle. And we certainly won't allow anyone else to take advantage of this – they _will_ be the savior of humanity.

For that, I need Hera. Most of the children born in this era do so with her blessings, and those who don't mostly turn out to be… _not right_. With the lack of scientific advancements in regards to gynecology and pediatric knowledge, the belief in the Goddess of [Family], Hera, places her Divine Blessings as the main security blanket for the recently-born children.

Disregarding that, speaking of children, the image of my wives' slim and relatively-undersized body with a protruding belly is quite arousing, if I may say so myself. It may be because I love them so, but the additional sense of immorality, knowing their body types are borderline illegal in modern times. However, what I share with that culture is the shock I feel when I see boy and girls the size of Medusa's smallest form taken in as official consorts, where adults rear them into the ideal partners… or just a well-treated toy.

However, after secretly interviewing those children – who are of legal age in this era – it appears most of them are living a good life. it's a dishonor to have them mistreated, and the potential social shunning if such a thing happens keep the adults from abusing their physical strength and authority on them.

Of course, there's always a select few bastards out there who needs to be… _corrected_. Atalanta is especially fond of this activity, usually coming home drenched in as much blood as possible to ram home the point to those who look upon her in horror. She sometimes even goes past the legal limit and attacks those she views undeserving to 'take care' of all of those children, leaving me, Chiron, and her uncle to clean up the paperwork and litigation.

While it'll be interesting to see how Medusa's inhuman body and spiritual strength handle a child with her smallest frame, I'm not certainly one to wish that upon her. There are animals who are able to eject younglings in a form imbalanced against their own frame, but I won't take the chance just to potentially hurt her.

Perhaps the local culture is getting to me?

She's certainly of age, and Athena is pushing me to do this regardless of Medusa's body size, so…

Nevertheless, I have to focus on planning things out with these two goddesses.

After a while, Athena finally regains the initiative to restart the conversation again.

"Then it's likely this place is no longer safe. Not this domain, of course – I mean Olympus as a whole. She is held very near its core, as it's designed to power the strongest restrains for her, so it's possible she's already taken control of it."

"What functions do it hold?" I inquire.

"Just raw power, thankfully… or unfortunately," she grits out. "Most of the operational functions are regulated personally by individuals, such as Father and…"

I immediately add to that, "We've lost him, haven't we?"

"I fear so. That's why Lady Hera was acting so strangely prior to your marriage ceremony, most likely," Athena admits her suspicion. "What about things from your side, Artemis?"

"I'm more concerned about our brothers. While I have a good grip on mine's conditions, what about yours?" The voluptuous goddess throws out a question.

It's a very valid one. Ares is always the wildcard among the gods, the one who can be Olympus's best defender at one time, and the one who will cause its downfall at another. In my previous deployment into this era, the latter was exactly what happened, though that particular ending was brought about by another's direct hands.

"From Molpadia's words, I think he's fine, though of course that is inconclusive. He's been running around by himself to who knows where, so as long as Amazon's Divine Blessings are still perfectly working as intended… We can only infer his condition from that," Athena frustratingly says.

* * *

While most mortals don't have the right to step into the divine plane, there are certain exceptions. For example, divine consorts plucked right from the mortal plane, great champions rewarded by their respective patron deities, or demigods showcasing great promise recognized by their wayward parents.

And the rarest among them was a direct chosen disciple, to be trained in Olympus before being released back home to spread the greatness of their chosen deities, as well as help those around them through the Divine Blessings given to their body and spirit.

Molpadia was cheerfully skipping back to her room through the expansive and well-groomed corridors of Athena's private domain, happy with her day's work of training. Her sidetail – now more red than her mother's black – bounced in accordance to her steps, having grown somewhat longer since the time she was attacked by that scary female monster.

She got to see two of her most favorite people in the world! How could she not be in a good mood?

\- Thud.

"Mmf!"

She tensed her body in accordance to what Aunt Penthesilea and Lady Athena had been teaching her in the short time she'd been training under them.

However, a familiar scent and strong arms enveloped her small body, lifting her up in the air to come face-to-face with the person she's just bumped into.

"UNCLE!"

Without even thinking, she threw her face into the nook of his neck, feeding in the strangely comfortable warmth and firmness of muscles.

It's strange, if she thought about it carefully. It's odd how quickly she accepted this man in her life. While she's a mild-mannered princess, without the usual arrogance or haughtiness accompanying someone of her birth and position, she generally thought of herself as shy in front of strangers. Both her mother and aunt had taught her the perquisite on how to judge another person – either to trust them, keep an eye on them, or prepare to kill.

Athena's teachings, while different in their details, were basically the same. Compared to the Amazons' more physically-oriented style, the goddess focused more on her spiritual growth and mental training, finally teaching the little girl the Magecraft her family lacked. Like the child she was, Molpadia was extremely excited seeing the things she assumed was beyond her, like the time her mother, aunt, and everyone else vanished by virtue of Uncle Shirō's magic trick!

\- Pat. Pat. Pat.

'_And even his back rubs felt better than Mother's!'_

To her, this was one of the best days in her life.

In fact, it's just about to get better: she's going to eat! Dinner time!

Saying that to the redhead, he chuckled and carried her to the dining room, sitting her on her favorite position: on his shoulders.

"Uncle! Uncle! Teach me that Magecraft of yours!" With her mouth full and grains spouting from her puffy cheeks, she excitedly spoke to him. Clanging her spoon and fork rudely onto the table top – a behavior which would earn her an earful from her mother – she leaned forward. "What's the trick? Do I have to just eat lots and grow up to have that much magic power?!"

"Ahaha…" He simply smiled at her question and reached out to wipe her mouth with a napkin, earning a few, "Mmph! Mmph!" from the little girl. "It's something particular to me and my family. Maybe some other time I'll take the opportunity to teach it to you – it'll be a nice experiment."

"Yay!"

"Now finish your food first before we talk further, alright?"

"Okay~!"

She didn't even question once how this man could even get past the entrance to Athena's domain. To her, after watching his broad, muscular back arrive from the sky and wrestle away the female demon from harming her… He was the strongest in the world! It'd be natural for him to be able to do anything!

Well, in reality… she's not wrong. He's certainly strong enough to bulldoze his way to Athena's front door and kick it down with a dynamic entry without invitation. However, he was properly summoned by Athena through one of her main temples in Athens, though it's not a process anyone could go through safely without any physical and spiritual damage. Much like how the deities were restricted in their presence in the mortal world, so too were mortals not supposed to be able to live comfortably in Olympus either without any additional enhancements.

Molpadia received one through her initiation into Athena's mentorship, in a similar manner how Medea and Circe received Hecate's blessings first before she was allowed to transmit her knowledge freely and without any penalty from the universe. It's more to do with the students rather than the master, because knowledge without the proper understanding on how the universe worked would just warp any individual's mind, changing them into deranged people with lost cause.

However, to look at it from an original point of view, those already-deranged minds could usually digest the information beyond the scope of a normal human without the necessary procedures. Such irony made the gods unhappy, declaring these to be 'heretics' and should be hunted down. After all, if these mortals could receive unregulated benefits from other beings in the universe other than them, their standings in it would be shaky.

Athens's temple served as the gateway between Mount Olympus and the mortal plane, as illogical as it was because it could be physically observed from Iolchos and Olympia. However, there's no official path existing there, and anyone trying to walk or ride their way into the realm of the gods would just encounter a never-ending road, before being turned around and mislead into a hostile place.

There were several similar portals spread throughout the main temples of every patron deity. Obviously, Poseidon's were now inactive and his priests and priestesses were running around, trying to soothe the masses and shift them to worship the next wielder of the [Ocean] Authority, and other Authorities associated to him such as [Horses], [Storm], [Earthquake], and so on. They're oddly non-antagonistic towards the _Argo_'s crew, and simply went about their way. Perhaps they, too, had felt the odd behavior coming from their patron god, and thought it'd be better not to raise a fuss.

They could still remember the battle between Athena and Poseidon over the control of a city, just because somebody displeased one of them with their offerings. The elders certainly didn't want a repeat of that, especially as most _polis_ were now bustling and prosperous. Another war would just throw the economy of Greece out of whack… and sometimes, money trumped over belief. The latter rarely gave them enough grain and meat to eat, after all.

* * *

The dinner was filling, but not sumptuous. Athena disliked wastes, such as the ones created when other gods were partying – which their worshipers inevitably copied and spread this sin among the world – and for a child like Molpadia, she's not eating much anyway. Just enough taste that one wouldn't get bored, and just enough volume one could engage in intense activity, such as physical training.

Also, she got sleepy. Therefore, Shirō lifted her up in her arms and carried her back to her room. She cuddled cutely against his chest, her breathing already slowing down as his steps lulled her into dreamland and the realm of Morpheus.

Metis suddenly showed up from a corner along the corridor, and after greeting him, offered to guide him to her room – a location he certainly wasn't familiar with. After all, even in this safe environment, Athena had implemented many defensive features which were intentionally set to be unfriendly to guests, just to let her know who's sneaking around behind her back. Therefore, there's a chance Shirō might get caught in one of them and wake Molpadia up.

However, she did so just as Metis opened the door to her room, and bowed to leave the two of them alone. Acting spoiled, she circled her hands around his muscular neck, not letting go unless he indulged her in a make-believe of how her ideal father would act, and tucked her into the bed in a modern way.

It's certainly not traditionally practiced in Greece, where children were expected to learn and grow quickly to assist their parents in their chosen profession. Sure, most of them weren't under pressure to continue their parents' business, but their early years were specifically reserved towards this choice. Therefore, 'parental love' extended only to the point of maintain the children's physical health, and not their mental or spiritual ones.

Therefore, stories containing fantastical and different ideals for parenting were popular with children, mostly spread by the storytellers and scribes. Molpadia received the very best education, and these tales were orally told to her by Penthesilea, as Hippolyta was usually too busy to constantly watch over her at night. Of course, the Amazon princess wasn't particularly good at this, but Molpadia was quite satisfied with the contents – enough to nag at her mother to purchase handwritten copies of them.

Through it, and as she aged, these sessions grew shorter and shorter, and as her understanding deepened, she depended less upon adults to read her these stories and chose to do so privately, so she could add upon that in her mind and play out different scenarios. There's no chance she'd do that in front of her mother, because her daydreaming expression would just earn her a disapproving glare and a light scolding.

"Uncle, read me a story!"

He chuckled, mostly because of the cultural oddity of it. Having lived here for so long, he's gotten used to how things were done, and reading stories to a child at night was certainly a modern idea.

In front of her, his smile was eerily similar to the image of a 'father' she often daydreamed of, before he began narrating.

However, very little of his words actually made it into her mind. Her gaze simply took in his silhouette without any other care in the world, as not even the warmth of the high-quality blanket provided by Athena registered on her body. His voice was masculine and rather deep, smooth and warm like freshly-forged steel.

"Uncle, hold my hand…"

He obliged, continuing his story without a pause.

She wasn't sure what's happening with her. There was a spark of connection existing between them ever since their first meeting, which grew and grew when she went into his wedding party.

He's simply… just _right_. His presence, his face, his body, his image… To her, it's simply comforting having him around, just like her mother and aunt.

\- …

Time went by just like that, with her sleepy self drowsily holding onto his hand while his voice soothed her young mind. She kept waking herself up, frightened that when she slept, he'd disappear and she'd never see him again. The comforting flame coursing through her body actually elicited such fear, like an addict fully knowing the sensation of their drugs were just momentary.

However, her young body finally claimed her consciousness, but not before she mumbled out, "Uncle, don't leave me…"

* * *

"So, what do you think of our plan?"

"Which one? The one about using my children as glorified containers, or the one about Pandora's breakout and infestation of various people?"

"Please don't get snarky in front of me, o' Jason."

Athena had taken the time to investigate the depths of Olympus properly, but was stuck at the additional defenses Pandora had left behind to make sure no one could get to Hera that easily. What the Goddess of [Wisdom] could infer was the trail of evidence the 'perfect human' left behind, which allowed her to compile a concise but revealing report.

There were traces of three powerful beings leaving the area prior to Pandora. And from what Shirō knew of her five tomes, that trio were likely the remaining 'children', sent out to fulfil Pandora's attempt at a last-gasp attack against the gods and the world which had condemned her just for existing. Of course, these accusations were all biased and unfair, but to Pandora, it didn't matter.

As they feared, Zeus was uncontactable, and the two summarized he'd been lost to Pandora's grasp.

And since Artemis had gone off somewhere, it's really just the two of them against that former Heroic Vessel.

They exchanged the necessary information and debriefs. There's no sense in discussing the minute details now, since things would be fluid and chaotic later on – thus they chose to trust in each other's decision-making and instincts when the destined battle would eventually happen. She respected his battle prowess, and he relied on her [Wisdom] to provide insight unseen by a mortal's point of view.

"Do we need to rescue Hera as soon as possible? Or should we focus on Pandora and her forces?" He put forth several questions onto the discussion, though he had already formed several answers himself. "If possible, I'd like to split and tackle several problems at once, but given Pandora's consistent ability to capture Divine Spirits, I'm not sure that's a good idea either."

Athena shook her head. "That's because you don't know the personalities of her victims. Eros has been long dormant, thus giving little resistance, since he's letting the automated system he's created to run its course naturally. Poseidon was easily manipulated if you can identify his desires, and bait him around with that. Those two shouldn't be a benchmark how an Olympian should be."

Looking at the slim and short goddess puff out her flat chest, Shirō silently sweat-dropped while thinking about her words.

Clearly, there were deities who were more suitable for combat. Eros wasn't one – and neither did his successor, Aphrodite – while Poseidon's personality was quite particular and close to a flawed human's mind. Similarly, one could say the same about Zeus and his famous adulterous cases, which Hera tore her hair out to no end confronting him about that.

Clearly, Athena was different. She could see him thinking of other deities who could be forced into neutrality, at the very least, to avoid them being swayed into Pandora's side. For example, she's now quite confident her brother hadn't come into contact with their culprit, because she just spent the time Shirō had been seeing Molpadia to reach out towards him.

And, just as always, he responded in his usual clipped and harsh manner, ensuring her he's fine.

Any fluctuations in emotions, either too calm or too violent, would indicate otherwise. Pandora's 'children' weren't delicate enough to perfectly assimilate their controls over Divine Spirits of the Olympians' caliber, which was why they were able to identify who had fallen into Pandora's grasp this quickly in the first place. Sure, they're not acting extremely out of character, but being centuries old, their personalities were all set already after all the experience they went through in life.

Thus, the tiny details mattered.

However, their conversation was interrupted when Labrys smashed open the door towards Athena's study – just as she'd done many times before – and shouted like she's speaking towards someone on the other side of a cliff…

…despite the target of her news standing barely a few feet away from her.

"LORD JASON! YOUR HOUSE IS UNDER ATTACK!"


	29. Homewrecker

**Welcome back to the latest chapter! Glad you guys liked the previous chapter, and thanks for the constructive criticisms from those of you who didn't. Now, some of you asked me whether Super Orion will be included in this story, and as you can see in the mailbag below, I won't confirm nor deny anything yet! Also, after receiving more detailed history charts from my latest research, there's some things I'll change about HV-S03 and the rewrite of HV-S01: RKR. Wait till you see those fruits!  
**

**Also, there's some misinterpretation on who the Servant with this story's Hera's appearance was in one of the previous chapters' AN. With the release of the latest Lostbelt characters in FGO, she turns out to be Europa. I will still roll with her appearance for Hera in-story, until I have the chance to either change her appearance _en masse_ after TYPE-MOON's confirmation and release of her actual character... or just assume they're accidentally identical, alright!**

**Mailbag time!  
****Mo Eazy: [the reply's excerpt] Thanks for the review. TBH, in my mind, Hecate has a better chance at being the secret route than Athena - though that's not saying much, since I've been adamant to myself I'll keep it to Atalanta, Medusa, and Medea. While I don't agree with how both Campione! and Shakugan no Shana's canon went, and should go in the first place, I have to give the latter the better evaluation as a series as a whole. Plus, there are better non-crossover fanfics in the latter fandom than the former, so perhaps I was influenced there.  
****98kazer & KRKing: Sorry for the late reply. Regarding Super Orion... I won't comment on whether I'll use him or not. I prefer to let you suffer in curiosity instead. Hahaha!  
taovkool: ****Note that the gods in Lostbelt 5 have millennia to upgrade and strengthen themselves, becoming far more powerful than their original counterparts. There were also indications Poseidon's & Artemis's mecha forms are recent upgrades instead of being their true form. Regarding their true nature as inorganic life forms created by alien Titans, then I'll try my best to incorporate it into the story, because I purposefully left this attribute out just in case something like this happened. Thanks for the review for the combat chapter. As I mentioned in the AN, I know it's going to be unpopular with how anticlimactic several parts went, but I went with realism over drama in it. The former almost always guarantee a quick finish for both winner and loser sides, instead of having a prolonged duel like the latter.**

**Note: Some of the Noble Phantasms appearing in this chapter will have different origins, usage, and effects than canon. Do try to enjoy my explanation regarding these differences. As always, discussions are welcome.**

* * *

Over the past few weeks, Medea could now say she'd experienced what Elysium had to offer.

People said it's the ultimate paradise, where nothing was found wanting and the spirits rested peacefully for eternity, living harmoniously with each other despite the differences they had in life.

Well, if they went to Elysium together, it's more likely they weren't bitter life-long enemies in the first place. One of them would go to Hades instead. Perhaps that kind of luxury was only reserved to respectful rivals, where both weren't judged to have done anything wrong or legally criminal in their lives. In that case, then a bond of genuine friendship could be argued to have existed between them, because no combatants could be together for such a long time without knowing the other party well.

For example, Herakles and Shirō. The public hyped up their rivalry some time ago, when the latter beat the former's record in receiving the S-Rank designation by defeating the older man in direct combat. Despite the Guild's best effort in playing down the conflict, people's mouth and tongue couldn't be stopped from wagging randomly. With every storyteller, the event was blown up out of proportion more and more.

Fortunately, after a while, the gossip died down because there's no apparent desire to fan it from anyone else, who were predictably easily distracted by another juicy gossip, averting public attention to someplace else. From what Shirō had told her of what actually happened, it's a conscious decision from the Guild after discussing with the two S-Rankers, since an enforced attempt to clamp it down would only draw suspicion and even more interest as to why the esteemed hero Herakles wouldn't want the result of a duel out in the open.

To be frank, as both a magus and a woman, she didn't really see the point of such simple rivalries. It all appeared so… barbaric and rough, wasn't it? Quite stupid and brash, merely the result of two egos – usually males – clashing and neither willing to back down.

Not even after spending time with the man she loved did she manage to understand such thoughts. She wanted to, make no mistake – he simply allowed her to take her time and not force her to immediately accept everything of him.

Of Shirō.

Even now, she still squealed internally whenever she addressed him in her mind so… _intimately_. Without formality, careful approach, or forms of addresses.

Because they're married now.

\- …!

She pursed her lips together to silence the upcoming squeal, not for the first time today.

Or this week. Or this month. Or… Well, those around her would understand.

She merely allowed the intense shiver to take over her shoulders, letting the wooden ladle in her hands tremble in accord.

Her long violet hair – one her husband liked! – bounced in happiness, as her face couldn't help but spread into a smile, dissipating the giddy energy erupting from her womb to her entire body.

A mixed aroma of mixed spices alongside the fat of various chunks of game meat in the stew filled the room, accompanied with the sound of bubbling liquid and repeated 'thunk's of Medusa chopping wood outside. Today was Medea's turn to cook – a rarity, because usually Shirō took up this duty, as well as teaching her his recipes. She wouldn't dare say she's already reached the level of her husband, but she's getting there!

What she still felt she hadn't done was to have an official blessed ceremony like what Atalanta had, but as long as she's still living this dreamy life, she wouldn't complain. Shirō had called her his 'wife', and that's all the recognition she needed. There's no need of it from her father, her family, her people in Colchis, or her adventurer colleagues.

Circe sent her a congratulation, so she's all good. Perhaps Medea missed Hecate's presence, and she wished to hear what the goddess would have to say to her current situation, but that couldn't be helped. Shirō said she's recovering well, and the Authority of [Magic] had been running as smoothly as possible due to the established system already existing. In fact, it seemed her Magecraft had grown more powerful lately, showing there's no issue due to Hecate's absence.

Though she attributed that more to her frequent consumption of an excellent-quality semen.

That thought brought another giggle to her lips, causing her to lower her guard and allowing Atalanta to sneak up behind her with a hug.

"Smells delicious," the older woman suddenly whispered in her ears, pressing their bodies close together, eliciting an "Eep!" from the distracted Medea. "I've processed the game I hunted today. They're already in the storeroom."

"T-Thank you f-for your hard work!" The magus managed to squeak out, before composing herself and allowing her body to melt into the hug. "U-Um… this'll be ready in a moment. I-Is Shirō home yet?"

She felt Atalanta's rough strands brush against her own in a shake. "I haven't felt his presence returning from Mount Olympus, so perhaps we'll have another dinner with the three of us."

"I see…" She mumbled, slightly disappointed he wouldn't be here to taste her cooking.

"I'm back!" A loud proclamation echoed from the back door, its childish traits identifying itself as Medusa. "Do you need extra firewood, Medea?"

A small hill of neatly-stacked firewood showed itself near the door, with only Medusa's slim legs showing themselves from underneath it. Her offer came from the need for even a magus of Medea's caliber to use firewood in cooking. Yes, she could've conjured a flame long and stable enough for it, but the flavor just wasn't there. The combustion process from the fuel used gave the meal its distinctive scent and taste, and replicating it completely with Magecraft was just a waste of time and resources. Therefore, Medea chose to pursue the traditional route, just as how her husband taught her.

"No need. This is just entering its final phase, so clean up and set the table, please!"

"Alright!" The firewood hill replied cheerfully, before disappearing towards the storeroom.

Sensing Medea's sadness, Atalanta rubbed her head and kissed it, feeling responsible to substitute for their husband's caring touch. "You know he is gone for an important thing, correct? Do not be too harsh on yourself."

Her words were replied by a melancholic smile, before that long violet ponytail swished around and refocused on the food.

That was, until the entire house was blown to smithereens in an instant.

* * *

\- BAM!

"Sir, there's movement from the royal palace of Arcadia!" A raccoon-eared receptionist barged into the Guild Master's office in a hurry, shouting at the top of her lungs. "What do we do?!"

Instead of finding Chiron processing some documents, however, he appeared in front of her already fully-dressed in battle armor, with his bow slung across his back along with a quiver full of arrows. His human form was already shed off, revealing the rear half of a muscular horse.

"Gather all high-ranked adventurers available and make them form a defensive line around Mycenae. I'll select my team later on from them, before we set forth to reinforce our beloved S-Ranker."

Raphtalia nodded firmly before running back the way she came, no doubt shouting orders as she did so to fulfil Chiron's orders as fast as possible. While he still had the composure to slip in a joke for his final sentence, he, too, felt the pressure emanating from the surrounding city-states, especially after what the _Argo_ had accomplished.

Not everything heroic would be universally-accepted by everyone.

Despite the publicized nature of the incident, where Poseidon's erratic nature, controlled mind, and another entity lurking behind the scenes, people would think independently separate from the narrative. They're not stupid, after all – scholars immediately delved into the possible backlash from Atlantis's destruction, from the death of countless citizens there, to the economic loss from partner city-states. No matter how much the Guild insisted the former were all evacuated safely prior to the battle, there's still those who wanted to take advantage of the situation and take down Shirō publicly.

Iolchos. Arcadia. Colchis. Three considerably powerful city-states, all of whom had a stake against Shirō. While public opinion of the S-Ranker and Royal Prince of Iolchos was good, it wouldn't hold up in front of constant official critiques and lambasting by each region's ruler.

Of course, the man himself had already prepared some countermeasures. Most of the information networks he used to turn public opinion to his side came from converting workers in similar occupations from precisely these three city-states. Colchis fared the best because their spying methods were less traditional than Iolchos or Arcadia, whose members gradually supported Shirō and Atalanta more, compared to their previous employer.

It appeared they'd gotten desperate, thus the sudden assault on the redhead's residence.

Before, Chiron was busied by securing Shirō's family and close associates, such as his birth parents, Acastus, and so on, so they wouldn't be targeted by untoward means. That's the main reason he didn't join in with the _Argo_ – a favor Shirō swore he'd repay in the future.

At this day and age, this kind of verbal contract was far more valuable than gold.

Being an independent organization, it didn't mean the Guild wasn't interested in keeping the peace among the various militaristic city-states. On the contrary, it's its main objective – thus, any potential swings in national power and intent was of significant worry to it.

Iolchos. Arcadia. Colchis.

These three name popped up not only because of their connection to Shirō, but the honestly stupid decisions they'd been making lately, no doubt coming from their rulers.

Normally, these were perfectly reasonable, professional governors of their lands. Their rule wouldn't stay this long if not for this quality, because the uprising of the masses grew more common after the idea of democracy was established not too long ago.

Therefore, the sudden investments in what they described as 'ritual materials' roused suspicion from Chiron, who had been warned previously of their possible connection with those who wished to destroy the world from Shirō.

To be frank, just this warning alone was enough material for him to safeguard the redhead's family, but hey, he offered the deal, so Chiron took it.

This sudden warning from his informants wasn't much of a surprise. It's only a matter of 'when', not 'if' – unfortunately, a constant occurrence in their line of work. It's just because this matter wasn't spread around the lower members of the Guild or the public, keeping it among those truly involved in this under-the-table conflict.

But now… all of it was going to change.

He only hoped he wasn't too late.

Pray? Who to pray to when the gods themselves weren't around, corrupted, or flawed? One could only rely on themselves for this, so Chiron only gritted his teeth and galloped towards the borders of the city.

* * *

"Is everyone alright?"

Atalanta's soft, confident voice was certainly far too weak to be heard across the forests of Arcadia she called her home – and the house of their new family – but Medea and Medusa both had methods to listen to it nonetheless. The latter's inhuman senses were honed even further in her time spent training together with everyone, while the former always Reinforced her body as a habit whenever she detected any potential dangers.

"Of course," Medusa calmly replied from some way away, standing proudly among several torn-up trees and destroyed boulders, her long violet hair snaking down to the ground. "I'm worried more about you, Medea…"

"Hey! What's that for!" The young magus protested, batting away layers of dust and gravel from the apron she's just wearing. With a thought, a two-layered robe manifested itself on her body, swirling its light lilac and dark violet tones around her curves, alongside her favored staff. "I'm strong too, you know!"

"Focus, you two," Atalanta chided gently, still not raising her voice. Her ears and tail were already out, with her slitted eyes narrowing sharper than Shirō's blades. "This pig shan't kill itself without our assistance."

The Calydonian Boar towered over them, having just ran straight through the heartwarming home they'd built after going through several hardships in life. clearly, it's no ordinary beasts even when one disregarded its enormous size – more of a hill than a living being. Golden lines spread across its body, giving it an inorganic, metallic look, while its eyes and tusk gleamed with crazed murderous intent.

It wasn't particularly aiming for them, even. The three of them could sense this animal was rampaging around because it's _insane_, not because it's controlled or hijacked by someone else.

No… that's not necessarily true. Knowing the gods' behavior from Shirō's occasional explanation, there's every chance a deity, or a being close to it, were behind this. The insanity emanating from the beast was clear, but it didn't mean it naturally accrued this state. The Calydonian Boar – while they all knew its proper designation – had very little traits which they'd encountered otherwise. Not its size, not its strength, not its clearly divine origin.

After all, Shirō hadn't told them of Atalanta's fate, and left them to interpret what they're seeing through the Dream Cycles by their own. Even with that, it mostly consisted of Shirō's childhood and background, and it's blurred. Information about their other selves – the ones experiencing turmoil one after the other, tough enough to break every single one of them – were scarce.

But none of them cared about that right now.

This thing had destroyed their house. Their _home_.

The material cost was insignificant. After all, just Medea's income alone as a C-Ranker was enough to fully rebuild and refurnish that homely wooden shack. There's free materials all around, as Atalanta specifically chose self-growing trees among the Arcadian forests to limit as much damage to the environment as possible when she first renovated it, back when she first met Shirō.

But a 'home' was different.

A place where people who loved each other gathered. A place where memories were made, and happiness was shared.

Now, it all laid flat against the boar's erratic hoof, with nothing remained as its aura burned them off.

"██████████████▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄**_..."**

It roared… or tried to.

Instead, its rumble faded into a squeak at the end under the combined murderous intent from the three females in front of him, drowned out like a small creek facing up against a tsunami.

By that time, it clearly knew… it's done.

"**Come, Tauropolos. Let's hunt."**

**Tauropolos  
**_~ Bow of Heaven ~_

Numerous magic circles had already surrounded the Calydonian Boar's hulking body, shooting out chains larger than most ships' main mast and binding it in place. It shook its gigantic body to try to loosen the restrain, but the chains merely groaned and did not break.

Medea tapped the butt of her staff to the ground, securing the inverse Bounded Field in place. Instead of spreading her Od and Mana across a large, thin film like a traditional one, it's more effective to shape each restraining magic formula in the form of chain links. The only difficulty in doing this technique was… its difficulty. Not many magi could handle the calculation and operative procedures in their brain under the span of a Five-Line chant – especially for binding Divine Beasts like this boar – much less at the speed of Single-Action spells.

But Medea wasn't Hecate's student for nothing. Only a few beads of sweat poured down her forehead – more from the previous cooking than the strain of chanting a highly-complex magical spell – and she silently eyed Medusa to take action.

Or, to be more precise, the place where the young girl was standing. Even after all these while, she still couldn't keep up with both Atalanta's and Medusa's top speed whenever they decided to go full throttle. Not even a spread-out detection-type Bounded Field could necessarily react in time against their full sprints, in order to relay the information towards another offensively-oriented Bounded Field.

Before she realized it, the Calydonian Boar's head had already buried itself onto the ground, courtesy of a lightning-quick downwards axe kick from Medusa. She twirled her entire body mid-air, before drilling down upon its torso to buckle its knees down with a cannon-like punch.

"Good job, Medusa."

Those three words were enough warning for her to scramble away, lest she got caught up in the incoming attack.

Both Medusa and Medea closed their eyes and turned their backs around, since the light emanating from the tip of Atalanta's arrow shone with the intensity of Apollo and Artemis's divine lights.

The boar shivered greatly, and due to its size, the earth beneath it trembled in accordance.

The incoming blow was more suitably called a divine smite, rather than an arrow strike.

Therefore, the darkness within it, the source of its craze, chose to do what it was automatically programmed to do when under threat to its life.

Cheat.

Any executioner, no matter how experienced or cold-hearted, would change their expression when it's their own family and loved ones under their sword's swing. Tales of someone so emotionless that they couldn't feel anything was false – even deities had their own consciousness, and this was the part which would hesitate no matter what.

Whether it influenced their actions or not depended on their training and sense of responsibility, but deep in their hearts, whether they liked it or not, this was the truth.

Therefore…

"Atalanta! Halt your shot! It's me!"

On top of the boar's palace-sized head, a humanoid figure began to sprout, taking shape from fleshy black-and-gold tentacles, before a human's face and finer details began to sink into its features.

It wasn't an imitation. Yes, there's Magecraft available which could perfectly mimic a person's appearance or behavior, but it's mostly one or the other, leaving behind a soulless doll which clearly wouldn't fit in a regular human society. High-level artificial humans were all the rage a few decades back, but their inhuman expression and robotic behavior quickly unnerved their creators and owners, who usually used them to replace hard labor, and soon got out of favor.

It took skills like Hecate's or Athena's Magic to properly create an approximation of another human being, much less a new, original creation like Medusa.

However, there's a technique which cut all those complicated process away.

If coming up with something from scratch didn't work, then just use an already-existing template, preferably something close to the intended final result. For example, Necromancy was a popular alternative. Spiritual Evocation casted inside an empty vessel was also a good option, and both were easier to learn and master compared to Magecraft and True Magic in the realm of the gods.

Of course, Hades and Thanatos were the rulers of these realms. It's relatively easy for them to resurrect any deceased physically perfectly and spiritually flawless – they just chose 'no' to keep the balance of the world proper. However, Hades's most frightening skill wasn't this, but to create an amalgamation of beings from the deceased's talents and skills, with no regard to physical appearance – because that's just wasted resource – and forge them into city-destroying monsters.

Thanatos's mastery over [Death] was more mysterious than Hades's [Netherworld], and not many gods were clear about it. He was someone closer to the Sisters of Fate, thus a neutral adjudicator of others, than the Olympians, who're more akin to rulers of their respective Authorities and _polis_ in the world.

Ars Theurgia took another route, however.

It had just recently released itself from its mother's confinement chamber through a method unknown to even itself. While it realized its power had yet to mature, and its fellow siblings weren't by his side any longer, it took refuge in the most ideal candidate: a well-bred, well-fed individual with significant political power. Like most parasites, it only chose its host in order of possibility of survival – as a being who was born to affect and manipulate humans, it immediately chose that particular species to do so.

That individual happened to be the King of Arcadia, Iasus.

Perhaps there's an instinctive attraction to people antagonistic to its true enemy, who was also her mother's? Certainly, from what it gathered intermittently from Pandora's thoughts, Heroic Vessel SHIRŌ was the highest priority target to engage and destroy. There's a being called 'Alaya' whom its mother strangely described with a mixture of anger, respect, and… _fear_?

Naturally, it lacked the means to verbally express that thought, so it couldn't tell whether her mother would confirm that emotion or not.

However, what it had was a great stroke of luck. Here it was, inside the body of a person who held enmity – to a varying degree – against its mother's opponent? A person who happened to rule over the area where SHIRŌ's home was located, along with his loved ones?

Previously, political and social pressure safeguarded their home against Iasus's, or anyone else's, attempts at aggression. The people had long known of his deeds – abandoning his infant daughter to the mercy of the wilderness, like a poor pauper or harlot who had no realistic means to take care of one more mouth to feed.

But he's a _king_, and not the aforementioned two examples. When it happened, the public outroar was tremendous, especially because the Adventurers' Guild declined to comment on the situation. Their neutrality and public view meant this silence was treated as confirmation of the rumor – to Iasus, undoubtedly spread by his current son-in-law – and public perception of him declined sharply. While Greece had indeed embraced democracy, it's fortunate it hadn't reached the level of actually voting in for its monarchs – otherwise, Iasus's head would've flown a long time ago, most likely swung by a sword wielded by his own daughter.

To be honest, he didn't even have such a bad view of his own daughter. As a human being, no matter how cold-hearted he must be to rule as king, he did feel a semblance of guilt at his act which essentially separated him from his core family – both Atalanta and her birth mother were out of his reach now. However, his rational part dismissed this concern… thus, life went along as normal.

It's only after these stories popped up that he became burdened by those same nightmares again, just as Atalanta began her career as a professional adventurer.

These negative emotions were what drew Ars Theurgia to inhabit and parasitize him… which, again, happened only because of a stroke of chance.

It was also chance a specially-cultured boar, prepared for an offering towards Artemis – as per Iasus's annual prayers of forgiveness to the Goddess of the [Hunt] – was nearby. Thus, an abomination was born – one impossible to be birthed because it's against the laws of nature.

In another reality, this boar was the one used by Artemis herself when the ruler of Calydonia slighted her. It rampaged all the way from Arcadia to that place, destroying crops, forests, homes, lives, and so on, just to make a point never to cross the normally-easy-going goddess. In another reality, it was the event when Atalanta would receive her accolades as an adventurer, after spending years being discriminated against because of her gender and callous manner of talking.

In another reality, this boar would be the source of her madness, epitomizing her helplessness to save the unfortunate children in front of her. Right or wrong didn't matter. What's most important was their smiles – so they wouldn't cry like her ever again.

And what a chance this was.

Therefore, it couldn't fail here. It's clear Atalanta's prepared attack would've been enough to fell this beast… and itself alongside the boar.

"Atalanta! You remember me, do you not?"

However, the words coming out of this controlled voice box failed to register their desired effects.

Oh, they reached her, alright.

But in a different way.

\- Kill.

The entire forest stilled, as it's blanketed by a tremendous pressure of killing intent emanating from the cat-eared princess.

Both Medea and Medusa weren't looking at her, but the hairs on the back of their necks were standing sharply in nervousness.

"That was a poor choice from you, o' beast."

\- Thwp.

Her arrow shone even brighter, ever sharper and deadlier.

When did it fly? When was it released? Ars Theurgia couldn't differentiate the moment between Atalanta's fingers releasing her hold to the sensation of impact obliterating its inhabited body.

\- …!

It failed to register another thought, as the arrow, having the concentrated Divine Blessings of the divine siblings, transformed into a wave of energy so large it momentarily clouded the sky itself.

No… To be more precise, it had become a replacement of the [Sun] and the [Moon] in the Mortal Plane. There was no need for other humans to rely on the sky at this moment, because Atalanta's arrow had superseded their Authority in their eyes.

"**Phoebus Catastrophe."**

**Phoebus Catastrophe  
**_~ Complain Message on the Arrow ~_

* * *

"It's not dead yet!"

"Thank you, Medusa. I can observe that."

Even with that dry reply from Atalanta, Medusa didn't shift her concentration from the enemy in front of them. Medea had already started summoning several magic circles in front of them, which the younger girl used as jumping platform to the quickly-recovering monster.

The three of them were used to self-regeneration techniques. After all, each and every one of them had a personal one they preferred, though clearly not at the level of this beast or their previous, more powerful opponents. Therefore, at the very least, they're experienced in determining how a particular being achieved such a feat – natural, artificial, or a combination of both.

This time, it's the second which was happening.

"Hah!"

With a shout, Medusa launched herself far above the already-towering beast, Cybele activated for all its worth. As she expected, she didn't feel its petrification effect taking place bar the suddenly-redirected growl from the rapidly-regenerating beast.

However, that's not what they're aiming for.

Whatever demon was hijacking both of these two individuals' body – Iasus and the divine boar – was supplanting the destroyed parts with its own grotesque flesh. The boar's previously muscular, tough, rugged golden-black body was now an amalgamation of that… as well as alien maroon undulating semi-solid mucus. It expanded and contracted this way and that, as randomly and disgustingly as possible, whose effect was only magnified by the damage Atalanta had just done to it.

Basically, the only original body parts still visible were its hoofs. _Everything _above it was vaporized instantly, along with nearly half of the forests of Arcadia standing behind it.

\- Thud.

That was the sound of Atalanta's knees hitting the thick branch she was standing on, panting profusely. "Haa… Haa… Haa…"

She was desperately trying to control her breath, her fist trembling as it rested against the main trunk. She still levied a hateful gaze against the beast, the killing intent from before still bursting forth chaotically from her slender frame…

What frustrated her right now was all of this stemmed from her own doings. Rookie mistakes all over the place. She didn't need to stray far away from her bestial instincts to realize that.

It was a rushed shot. She berated herself time and time again in the span of microseconds, scolding her techniques all the way. The gathering of divine energy and activation of Authority was sloppy – instead of steadily siphoning energy from the nature around her and her connection to her patron gods, particularly Artemis, she inhaled everything needed in one large gulp. She also suddenly switched stances right before she unleashed that mighty strike, going to holding the bow with the nook of her feet and fully stretching Tauropolos out with her entire body, straightening her entire arm.

It made for an overly-powerful shot… if she intended of using that one beforehand. Deciding to up the power significantly not only cost her finer controls, but also the problem of doing it while the intense power of Phoebus Catastrophe coursing through her… was a major problem. Luckily, she at least had the experience of using this desperate technique against her husband, and he gave her a few safety pointers how to avoid the body-wrecking pain usually associated with this kind of reckless behavior.

What should've been seven concurrent divine strikes was forcefully compressed together in one single shot.

Rough. Misshapen. Tainted.

Back then, he simply rubbed her head and scolded her lightly while smiling. Right now, there's no doubt a palm chop would land instead, seeing her current emotional state.

_But she just couldn't keep it down. _Her head kept yelling to cool herself down, but her heart was burning with the evil flames of Nemesis… of [Vengeance] and [Hatred]. A missed breath here, a small twitch of complaining muscles there… They all culminated in the fact she's no longer useful to Medusa and Medea, who're now barraging the still-regenerating beast – though immobile – as fast as possible.

No. She's just dead weight now.

An archer who couldn't even draw the slightest string was completely useless.

"Atalanta! Retreat for now! Compose yourself!" Medea shouted when she saw the condition of her fellow wife without looking, holding her staff up high. "We still need you!"

"_I know!"_

Those were the words she wanted to shout out, but she could feel the small specks of blood forming from the inflammation in her respiratory system – a backlash from her poor shooting form earlier – leading to a dry cough instead.

**Blood Fort Andromeda  
**_~ Outer Seal, Blood Temple ~_

A thin film of crimson barrier washed past her weakened body, settling in a comfortably large area and fully enclosing the space around them. She sent a thankful gaze towards the still-flying Medusa, because not only it sapped energy from their opponent, it also limited the damage they'd do further to the surrounding forests the longer they fought.

That was the third mistake. Her shot just now cut off the main source of Atalanta's strength: the forest.

She had harmed the nature which she called her home, the place she assigned as her true birthplace. No wonder it smote her back when she hypocritically misused her strength!

Despite her calm demeanor from earlier, there's no changing the fact she failed to protect their house when Shirō was away. She prided herself as the leader among the three girls – the 'first wife' – but even in this simple duty, she failed.

…nothing had changed, hadn't it? She was still the same weak girl who needed Shirō to be beside her, to save her from her mistakes.

* * *

Medusa kept an eye on Atalanta's prone form worryingly, but forced herself to tear her gaze away from the older woman. Besides, with Blood Fort Andromeda active – a new skill she'd recently mastered under the teachings of her new family – she rarely had to do so anyway. She could feel every existence inside its border perfectly, even down to which blade of grass was dying under the weight of their battle.

Her hair fluttered behind her, thick as a giant anaconda, flexibly flying in the wind despite the large braid constraining each strand together. At this distance, controlling or transforming them into something else – another trick she'd just recently learned – was useless. It's better and more effective to focus her energy into concentrated blows instead of variety.

Which was why her chain-spikes being used more for movement instead of offensive capability. She left that to her fists and legs.

She still remembered the form she took in Elysium. The 'ideal' Gorgon… how a serpent goddess should look, and one which represented the ideals of humanity's prayers. Certainly, that form as a golden one-eyed dragon would be convenient, and the golden scales spreading across her limbs to the center of her back and stomach were whispering the possibility and the _power _she could have.

Oh, accessing it was easy. Controlling it, on the other hand… frightened her.

She knew it's just a part of her. It simply wished to protect her from all harm, to preserve her life as a form of her sisters' protection.

If only those whispers were Stheno's and Euryale's…

Without Shirō around, there's virtually no chance of going back if she lost control right here. The vision of Atalanta's and Medea's broken and battered bodies under her own bloodied limbs shook her mentally a few moments ago, before the memories of the warmth of their embrace around her whenever they slept together at night snapped her out of it.

They were here with them. Despite Atalanta's weakened state, they're here to support her. There's no need in relying fully into her 'other side', where there's everything to lose and nothing to gain.

Besides, this opponent… was weak!

It had nowhere near the experience and guile of Shirō or Poseidon – the two of them, when fully-powered, could handle her movements and speed relatively easily. The thought of the latter brought a bitter taste to her tongue, since though the sight of his body evaporating under Hecate's assault lifted a large burden off her vengeful shoulders, the fact she wasn't the one whose hands ripped out that god's Divine Graph left a small sliver of regret in her.

\- Tap. Tap. Tap.

A large maroon trunk shot towards her, its diameter easily double or triple the size of her entire body, but she nimbly twisted her waist and avoided it while also using the aerial platform Medea had created around her.

There's no need for verbal confirmation for this maneuver. They'd practiced this a few times – besides, Medea had devised a small instinctive bridges among the three of them after they'd ingested plenty of semen from the same man in their wombs, allowing them to move in a well-choreographed group since earlier, despite them spending relatively little time training together.

Her chain-spikes jingled as they, too, used these magic circles as platforms to stab and hang from, enabling her pseudo-flight in a true three-dimensional sense. Her thin frame contorted around, above, under, and in between the numerous lashes shooting out from the still-recovering large mutated boar, eliciting a frustrated roar from the ever-growing flesh trying to affix itself to its true remains.

It's good there's no longer the silhouette of that human male who aggravated Atalanta so, because the look in her face was one Medusa hated very, very much.

'_Ah, I just stole Shirō's words…'_ she remarked in her head while smiling, still freely and agilely avoiding most attacks, while obliterating those which came too close to her.

She felt the strength of the boar's regeneration slowing down, as its energy was extracted by Blood Fort Andromeda and fed into her body, feeding her frenzied pace. Despite the seemingly random movements, her mind was eerily calm – even the occasional whispers from her 'other side' had died down considerably.

Medea had floated into the air some distance away, hovering above Atalanta's position. Her robe flared outwards to mimic Circe's wings, but the artificial material meant it looked more like bat wings rather than her senior apprentice sister's elegant black raven wings. Still, the thin piece of clothing flapped in a way the latter couldn't, as well as providing better surface material for engraving runes and magical circles.

Which she dumped _all_ of them into the mutated Calydonian Boar.

Medusa wasn't the only one angry at how Atalanta was made to react by this monster.

While she had less attachment to this place when compared to the other two girls, she certainly wasn't a brainless and tactless woman who wouldn't recognize sudden emotional swings in another female. To her, Atalanta was always the ultra-reliable older sister – far, _far_ more so than Circe – who had cute ears and tails, as well as a stiff upper lip and strange, but adorable demeanor.

Who couldn't recognize the hatred emanating from her slender frame? For the thing which elicited such a reaction from such a pure, sincere person… As Atalanta had assisted both Medusa and Medea to repay those people who did a similar thing to them, so, too, would they eradicate everything in her way.

No matter if it's Atalanta's own father.

Just like how her… no, _their_ husband would do it.

Well, to be frank, even if it's _Medea_'s father… she'd still do it, on the account anyone who did these kinds of things was certainly not her father. Æëtes was many things, but not someone who'd throw an innocent child away just because they're a girl.

She had none of her teacher's grand magics. Perhaps, if she was the slightest bit conscious at the time, she would be able to glimpse into Hecate's final techniques and replicate them somewhat. Not even the spell used on her own body left any observable traces, leaving her and Circe at a loss on how to continue Hecate's teachings.

Therefore, there's no way the two of them could even theorize the spell used to annihilate a major deity along with his _poleis_ in one go. Shirō did explain the basics Hecate used, but it's mostly just outer descriptions, instead of the proper calculation lines and runic formations.

What she did was the basics. Just like how everyone had taught her. It's the most important thing, after all.

Reinforcement. Alteration. Projection.

Shirō claimed these were the only three Magecrafts he'd mastered. At first, both Circe and Medea – at different times – didn't believe it when he told them so, but everything he did certainly could be explained as a combination of either one of those three.

He showed them how crippling specialization at one thing didn't mean one's talents and creativity couldn't be used to expand that segment. Naturally, the road had far more danger compared to when a talented person like Medea took it, but it's certainly possible, no matter how improbable it seemed at first.

One sprout, to grow a whole forest.

It's clear this beast – and, to an extent, that male corpse previously dangling from its forehead – was possessed by some sort of supernatural force to behave this way, as well as gain these absurd abilities. However, the intensity of it was far outstripped by the pressure she felt in Atlantis, disregarding her mental state at that time.

She assumed she also felt torturous amount of pain, burning herself up in anger when she saw what happened to Circe. However, those flashes were distant, as if they belonged to someone else, and she's merely viewing drawings made by another.

However, there was one particular phrase she clearly remembered as being heard on her own.

It was her teacher, master, and pseudo-mother figure.

_"You should've called that [Rule Breaker]. It's more fitting."_

Medea closed her eyes. Normally, this wouldn't make any difference in the quality of the spell she's executing, simply because she'd far outgrown that phase in her training. New trainees might be encouraged to do so to enable them better feel of their surroundings, as well as the energy current flowing through their body. There's also the part of having it as one's self-hypnosis to enact specific Mysteries. Others were more particular – Medusa, for instance, entered different 'phases' when her vision's quality changed.

Perhaps this was just a placebo, but Medea just felt like doing it, despite it not being necessary.

An orb of rainbow, made of thin arcs rotating at hyper-speed in relation to each other, manifested itself between her hands. Every band of color inside each of those arcs was a line of highly-complicated equations, all of which needed a time equivalent Ten-Line spell, despite her using High-Speed Incantations when she first designed it. With each arc containing seven of such equations forged and interlinked together, every arc differed in combination to its counterpart, creating a wholesome sphere of multicolored kaleidoscopic light.

Before, her [Pain Breaker] wasn't enough against Poseidon, lacking from several angles. Her physical and mental strength clearly weren't enough, as both failed spectacularly even as she took a life-threatening risk to enact it. However, its methodology was also lacking, she presumed. She thought of the spell as a virus infiltrating a larger system, seeking a weakness it could then latch on to and parasitize the host.

This one, though, took a completely different approach.

It took on the form of a highly-mutable epidemic, containing everything she knew of, any single one of which could shift itself to match the required function and affect the host. Instead of a microscopic virus, this was more of a global pandemic, coating everything it touched and saw and felt, before destroying everything – starting from the weakest link, then taking the experience and change necessary to do so to move onto the next stage.

And the next one. And the next one. And the next one…

Instead of sneaking in one script at a time, why not blanket everything with… well, _everything_?

Therefore, her master's final teaching to her was finalized, with the help of Shirō.

"**Rule Breaker."**

Across Greece, not a single soul misheard the dying groan of the Calydonian Boar, who had its constrains finally removed and curse lifted, having its soul peacefully sacrificed to Artemis, as per intended.


	30. Supervision

**Long time no see. Who knows getting involved in another's wedding can be so busy? Therefore, I can finish and upload this chapter right about now for you guys. However, I'm glad you all received the previous one well. This chapter will be a continuation and conclusion of the fight in the previous chapter. Once again, I think it'll happen across a timespan far too short relative to those drawn-out battles in anime, but I'm working on it!  
**

**Also, there's some objects in this chapter which won't make it to the Glossary Update just yet, mainly because they're simply modifications of canon things. Perhaps I'll find the time to flesh them out more in the future.**

**Mailbag time!**  
**AlternateReality: Oh, yes, definitely. Perhaps it won't be as in-your-face as per TYPE-MOON tradition, but it'll be addressed.  
Mythic Imagination: [the replies' excerpt] ...I feel the need to correct one of your sentences: "...how little of his former standards there are left". Heroic Vessels aren't reincarnation stories; they're OCs built upon the blank slate of one of many original versions of a similar character. So SHIROU has never and did not live as 'Shirou Emiya', merely possessing his memories and thoughts via the Akashic Records. Apart from that, he's his own man - not EMIYA, and not Shirou Emiya either. In this case, the subtle words I use are intended to show he's actually BUILDING UP a standard moral code he's satisfied with through the various stories in the series - so perhaps I haven't emphasized that fact enough. [...]** **I'm more of the opinion these tomes' characters are simply too young and too inexperienced to build the same understanding (however perverted/wrong) of human emotions, as well as grow into the threats their canon FGO counterparts portray. ****Regarding Medea, she now has enough skill and nous to defeat FSN!Berserker on her own without Assassin's assistance. This story's Herakles is a complete being, though, and still some way above her level. Maybe I'll put this fact somewhere in future chapters.  
Greyfox2: ****Thank you for the review. "...trio of loveliness", huh? Wonder why TYPE-MOON haven't published an artwork with the three girls I'm going with all this time... Perhaps we should start a petition/commission?**

* * *

In front of Atalanta's very eyes, the gigantic Calydonian Boar collapsed, before shrinking quickly like a deflated processed animal bladder. A warm atmosphere escaped the process, blowing its disgusting stench across what remained of the forest, temporarily overwhelming the overall sweet stench of Medusa's Blood Fort Andromeda, causing her to scrunch her nose.

Medea gently floated downwards, a good layer of sheen of sweat covering her youthful features. However, unlike Atalanta before, she's not completely out of breath – a sign the spell worked perfectly with no backlash to the magus. Now, though, the 'first wife' had already recomposed herself, wiping the dried remains of blood from the corners of her lips, weakly standing up and smiling towards the younger girl.

"What a powerful Magecraft. Is that the completed version?"

Medea smiled back, satisfaction apparent from the glimmer in her eyes. "Almost. There's only the matter of condensing it for faster application, but the effects I've achieved just now were satisfactory."

[Rule Breaker], in effect, didn't turn out to fit quite the 'disease' analogy she's been using all this time. Perhaps, from a third-person's point of view, it appeared more like a uniform rain of Anti-Magic rather than an obtrusive Thaumaturgical line rampaging inside a magical construct. Of course, it's not literal Anti-Magic, because that's another enchantment entirely, but the grandness of the accumulated knowledge of a proper nullifying Magecraft against another made little difference to it.

The final result was the aspect of [Nullification] on any magical construct it touched. The optimum level of [Water] would nullify its respective [Fire], and so on and so forth. The two opposing forces might not necessarily have the same physical presence to be equal to each other, only their Conceptual Weights. Therefore, Medea also built-in an automated estimating system to help her eyeball the necessary opposing force… which she did iteratively for every possible combination her entire family – both old and new – could think of, before leaving it to intelligently update itself with self-simulations.

The Calydonian Boar finally lost its final clinging to life, and the disgusting stench weakened…

…before being replaced by a powerful wave of demonic energy.

Naturally, all three girls already knew this would happen. [Rule Breaker] might be all-powerful against any magical construct, especially in the form of bindings, but in exchange, its destructive power was nearly nonexistent. It's inevitable the individual behind all this destruction would still be fresh after all that.

The only unexpected thing was perhaps the lack of effectiveness of said individual's artificial healing factor for the Calydonian Boar earlier, because it didn't carry over after Medea severed their connection. That's the issue with this healing method – depending on its nature, it might be a constant-maintenance type, which would consume more unnecessary energy than a natural method, such as their husband's 'trick' to heal Hecate – or so he claimed.

The most basic healing technique a magus would've learned from a proper teacher would be the combination of magical and physical healing. The latter meant inducing the body's healing factor to not only work overtime without taking away any lifetime from the soul, but also to accept the foreign injection of outside matters. Overly doing it would shorten one's life unnecessarily, such as the enhancements provided by a cursed item or a flawed healing gem.

Medusa landed silently beside them, keenly eyeing the humanoid creature emerging from the still-smoking remains of the giant beast. Cybele was fully trained on that silhouette, though like earlier, she expected it to have little effect. If she was at full power…

'_No. I have my family now…! I have no need to delve into __**that**__ this soon!'_

"Poor creature…" Atalanta whispered, levelling a silent prayer to Artemis to accept this beast's soul. While she didn't know its origins, it's still an innocent being enslaved by a malevolent force. "May you rest in peace."

The intense pressure from Ars Theurgia simply washed over the three women, as they stood there confidently. They'd felt the crushing suffocation of Poseidon's and Hecate's full strength. They'd seen their husband's full power in action during one of their training sessions, as well as Herakles's for Atalanta during her promotion tests as an adventurer.

This being was, instead… not weak, but _incomplete_. As if it's a child instead of an adult – both its thinking method, battle experience, and inefficiency in managing its own energy for the result were very lacking. That said, it's still incomparably powerful – perhaps only Medusa's fully unleashed potential could battle it one-on-one without any assistance.

However, when compared to Ars Goetia and Notoria – or what their husband and Herakles described – it's somewhat… anticlimactic.

Its humanoid form stayed that way, a cluster of the previous maroon flesh near the shape of a four-limbed individual. There's no defining features – no face, no eyes, no mouth…

…to be frank, they couldn't even tell whether it's facing them or the other way around.

While this sight might incite fear and apprehension for mere mortals, the three of them were experienced enough – even the sheltered Medea and young Medusa – to steel their stomach and observe the strange creature directly.

Its proportions were naturally off, having asymmetric parts left-to-right, front-to-back, as well as imbalanced arms-to-legs ratio. Its head was oddly elongated upwards, with inversely-proportioned torso and hips.

Just like how a clay model made by a child would look like… after they already had a serving of warm dinner, and thus sleepy and sloppy.

For the three ladies, it looked almost comical, if not for the clearly inhuman and dangerous presence it emitted constantly, without control, like a mere instinctive beast.

How fitting it inhabited the beast from earlier, whose carcass had now reduced to a more normal size – still bigger than a normal pig, though – as well as the one human Atalanta thought had little-to-no human sympathy since she was a child.

She silently chided herself for the embarrassing display in front of her 'junior wives'. She's the oldest – she should've set a better example! Like the gallant warriors of Amazons Medea looked up to, and always blabbered about during their bedtime to the wowed Medusa…

'_Alright. Maximum effort…!'_

Shaking the remaining numbness in her body off, the soft fur inside her ears and around her tail bristled with emotions.

Why did she let herself be overwhelmed by the sight of her father – real or not – in the battlefield? How many times had she seen her comrades being seriously injured, or outright _died_, simply because they couldn't control their emotions? For sure, that's not to be suppressed like some cults' teachings, but to be _harnessed_, instead of letting it rule over oneself unchecked.

The anger, hatred, vengeance… all of those negative emotions should be burned as fuel for her arrow, instead of letting them burn _her_. Still, despite theoretically knowing that, and having studied under her husband for so many years, she still let that black flames sting her painfully.

What if that led to Medusa's and Medea's harm? Would she be able to forgive herself then? Would she be able to live with the knowledge she could… no, _should_ do better, under her husband's accusing eyes?

Not that Shirō would realistically showcase that kind of lowly, shallow judgement, but the point was still valid.

The devastated forestry around them began to sprout life anew, as her determination rose again with the dwindling of the numbing pain. Seeing this, both Medusa and Medea smiled gently at the older sister figure they all looked up to. Of course, sometimes her antics could be overbearing, such as her insistence of using wilderness terms and structure into their family, but they'd gotten used to it and attributed it to her different viewpoint and common sense.

Because only when the three of them were together, they were unbreakable.

However, Medusa had the feeling this moment wasn't the most appropriate to get all wistful and teary-eyed, and said resolutely, "Medea, I'm using _that_."

"Already? Shouldn't we wait until it proves to be too much to handle? I don't think this _thing_ in front of us will even reach full power in the time it'll take for Shirō to get here," Medea questioned, despite not doing anything to really dissuade Medusa from this decision. "It's simply… _incomplete_, rather than immature. The latter could be overcome with time; the former couldn't."

"Two reasons. One, personally, I don't like that chances," Medusa protested back, already coursing her energy through the two objects she's about to use. "Two… I want to test things. It's semi-permanent, anyway – I should be fine!"

The two of them looked at Atalanta at the same time, seeking backing for their respective arguments.

However, the oldest girl simply stared back at them, immediately replying, "Why are you two looking at me? Both of your points are equally valid; all we have to do is test out every options, no? Medea, simply get ready with your most appropriate restraining spells. I am ready to take over the offensive."

The young magus sighed, relenting.

Medusa flashed Atalanta a quick smile, before throwing two red orbs – which she'd been preparing since earlier – into the air… and down into her mouth.

Even from some distance away, Ars Theurgia realized what that violet-haired slim young woman was ingesting: _blood_.

Crystallized blood, to be more precise. While processes vary, the end result was a solid prismatic structure redder than the best rubies. Some preferred adding certain alchemical ingredients into the liquid to coagulate it evenly – any imperfections would not only look ugly, with no luster or reflections, but also prevent the pseudo-Magic Circuits imprinted inside the bodily fluid to form a coherent structure, rendering it unusable. Once again, most magi's recipes varied even between fellow apprentices, simply because they're dealing with highly variable ingredient… _blood_.

Others weaved in their spells straight into the blood itself. While this was more practical and often faster, it held a higher risk of contamination of the blood's original magical attributes and other characteristics with the magi's own signatures. This could produce confusing results and differing desired end product… if not explode violently at every stage of the production. Therefore, this method was usually reserved for one's own blood, when the magi specialized in this style of Magecraft, since it's a guaranteed match without rejection, and incredibly fast to produce for experienced casters.

One of those consumed by Medusa was the latter…

…because it's Medea's own virgin blood, reserved straight after her husband deflowered her that fateful night.

The other was uniquely easy to produce, because of the incredibly high quality and dense Conceptual Weight it held.

Similarly, it's Medusa's virginal blood – one she requested Medea to conserve for further use, because she thought this scenario could happen in the future.

Her sudden growth spurt was, naturally, accompanied by a wholesome change to every fiber of her being, including all of her bodily fluids. By summoning the spirits of Stheno and Euryale to provide her with spiritual closing, Persephone also allowed their separated Saint Graphs to interact, resonate, and partly fuse with each other, because they're originally one object: humanity's wishes and desires.

_This_ was Gorgon. Not the monster, not the three helpless girls, and neither was the current Medusa.

To a female, virginal blood extracted straight from a naturally-broken hymen – that was, with a proper loving dick, which contained the opposite magical nature and neutralized the process – held the highest concentration of Mystery in it. This was why rapists at this day and age often got curiously stronger with each crime, requiring the authorities to devise a scheme to stamp them out at the earliest stage to prevent future troubles. The most worrisome was criminals who actually understood how to fully extract, process, and utilize the result of their crimes, instinctively or intellectually.

That was one of the reasons why centaurs were no more, with Chiron being the last member remaining.

Going back to Medusa's own, Medea was actually shocked how resistant it was to contamination. In fact, every step she preferred required much, _much_ more magical power than necessary – far exceeding the amount the previous 'explosion' warning threshold recommended – as if the blood itself was alive and consuming the magical energy around it. It's only due to its minimal amount Medea finally succeeded in concentrating, coagulating, crystallizing, and tempering it to this final form through a method original to her own, derived from the teachings of Hecate and Circe.

The result… was predictable.

Medea simulated Medusa would've been able to assume her fully-grown form just with the magus's blood, much less the Gorgon's own, which also contained the remains of her sisters after her body was transformed through her mental visit to Elysium.

So, what would happen if she consumed both at the same time?

Perhaps… an existence surpassing Shirō would be born?

To the three ladies, their husbands held a place higher than their patron gods in their hearts. Even though the deities were their pseudo-parents, far more accommodating than the humans around them… they weren't around all the time. The girls still lived through their difficulties on their own, facing their challenges with their own strengths and weaknesses.

It's only when he entered their lives they could call themselves… complete.

Medea wasn't sure whether it's the influence of his patron 'deity', the one called Alaya, because other examples did show it's possible. She tried to share this to her fellow wives, but the two summarily dismissed it as her own Thaumaturgical thoughts, because they're truer to their wilder sides, especially Atalanta.

She shook her head once again, allowing her youthful face to mature momentarily and her long lilac ponytail to sway side-to-side.

The transformation was already complete. What she's going to say from this point on was moot. Atalanta did have a point, though: all she had to do was prepare for the worst, instead of wasting time arguing.

Right in front of their eyes, Medusa's height exploded upwards, towering over them with her serpentine purple hair – now undone due to the sudden increase in mass tearing apart its bindings – spreading around like a heroic cape behind her. Instead of the tender golden scales creeping up her limbs in her previous form, a full-body golden armor flowed around her incredibly curvaceous body… earning her a heated stare form Atalanta, to which she squirmed embarrassingly.

With horns and spikes on the sides of her head and shoulders – also golden – the shining gleam was tempered by the pure white and maroon undertunic showing through the gaps around her joints. The armor pieces clicked into place with a style the other two girls, as well as Ars Theurgia, had never seen before, because instead of semicircles commonly found in today's armor sets, they interlinked in arcs, tongues, and interlocking links to create an incredibly form-fitting snugness.

An actual purple cape also flapped underneath her hair, around the same length, as well as a pair of wings breaking through two spots on her back. Predictably, the feathers themselves matched the armor, though their golden luster looked more natural than the metallic sting of the latter.

Atalanta and Medea were forced to look up… _a lot_, because the little girl they'd known had now become nearly as tall as Herakles. Like the S-Ranker, it's highly likely her muscles and skeleton were far denser than what's necessary to hold such posture, because of the incredibly dense Conceptual Weight rolling out of her in waves.

"Amazing…"

Which one of them uttered that, they weren't sure.

Atalanta was the first to break out of her stupor, playfully tossing Tauropolos lightly in the air a few times before aiming her sights at Ars Theurgia's alien form once again. "I am ready whenever you are, big girl."

"H-Hey!"

"As am I," Medea quickly added to tease her a bit more. "O' towering beauty, do grace us with your performance today."

"M-Muuu…! Stop that!"

The sight of a completely mature and elegant face going as red as fresh magma – and about as hot – almost brought the two of them to an uncontrolled laughter, if not for the presence of an enemy in front of them. The feet-stomping which followed soon after… wasn't cute at all, because it nearly made Atalanta and Medea fall over because of the sudden localized earthquake happening.

Clearly, Medusa still had a long way to go to mastering this form.

However, just this little amount was enough to deal with everything Ars Theurgia could throw at them… as proven when an uncontrolled violet beam suddenly shot out from Cybele right into the humanoid monster.

\- BANG!

"Ha-wa-wa-wa-wa…! H-How…?! W-Why… How can I control thiiiiiiissssssss…?!" Medusa tried her best to wave her hands and legs around without moving her head, lest the beam would impact everything else in her field of vision. "HHHEEEEELLLLLLLPPPPPPPP!"

\- BANG! BANG! BANG!

Mercilessly, the third of Pandora's tome was constantly bombarded without respite, leaving it in a constant state of self-regeneration without being able to fight back. It tried to groan in pain, but before its vocal chords and organs were able to create any sound, the violet beam was endlessly grinding it down into ash.

Many would say a self-regenerative technique was enviable… and this was true to an extent. Who among morals didn't fear diseases? Old age? Disability? Misfortune? Any method to enhance and prolong one's survival in this chaotic age, where beasts ate men, men blasphemed gods, and gods birthed beasts, was very crucial and desirable. Not even every god had true regeneration – for instance, Hecate was physically and spiritually completely spent after a battle where she gave it her all, in contrast to the enhanced Poseidon who could fight as long as his vital points weren't taken control of.

To a mortal, a god might appear to be immortal, but that's simply because of their nature as a Divine Spirit. They lived a long life, sure, but the continuous historical and developmental line of humanity was a decisive factor they lacked, leading to a pantheon's shorter life span than the entire human history. They might appear unkillable, but that's only when faced against objects and techniques with lesser or incompatible Conceptual Weight. If those two conditions were met, then they're just as vulnerable as anyone else on a similar level.

For Medusa, it's clear her current form far outweighed her incomplete opponent, to the point it's getting dangerous for Atalanta and Medea as well.

\- Pat.

"You do it like this."

A comforting masculine voice spoke from behind the now-statuesque Medusa, who didn't dare look at the speaker, lest Cybele – who had no eyes, pun intended – harm this beloved person of hers as well.

What she suddenly felt irritating was the fact she couldn't feel his calloused, large, comforting palm directly on top of her scalp, because her golden helmet was in the way. Oh, she sure could feel its familiar weight, but it's shielded by the cool sensation of the alien metal, not the familiar warmth and tender care she adored since she was small.

Quite literally.

"Shirō…"

In contrast to the cataclysmic showing she's creating right in front of her, where Cybele was busy re-landscaping the entire forest – or what remained of it after their earlier fight – with intermittent bursts of purple radiant light beams, her voice was weak and full of plea. While her husband's presence here was comforting, in a way that now there's no way Atalanta and Medea could get hurt anymore… that meant there's perhaps only one way they could solve this method without her mother's presence.

That was… for her to suffer the same fate as her sisters. With her head rolling on the floor.

However, that though was immediately dispelled when said hand, which was rubbing her head over her helmet previously, pulled in her neck and shoulder for a comforting hug, supported by the other one around her waist. Of course, this put the out-of-control Cybele uncomfortably close to Shirō's face, causing her to panic.

"Shirō! D-Don't…!"

"It's alright."

Those were two words she's heard far too often, and while it always soothed her in the past, somehow, it incited a slight color of disgust from inside her. How could he not understand?! She's worrying for his safety, as well as Atalanta's and Medea's, so why…?! This wasn't the time for false kindness or white lies, so…

\- Sshhh…

"See? Or can you feel it better?" He uttered calmly to the side of her helmet, where one of the large horns were located near her ear. "My magic… let it course through you like always."

"I-It's different…! Why is this happening…?!" Instead of calming down, Medusa's current form merely detected the irregularities in his Od flow more acutely. Oh, it wasn't as if this Shirō was fake – she's sure Atalanta and Medea would've taken care of any impostor long before he could reach her – but it's no longer the same 'taste' of magic she constantly felt from his blood and semen.

"It's because I'm using it to imitate something else to perfection. It may feel strange. Please bear with it," he apologetically explained, not letting go of the hug despite it certainly not feeling good. Who would want to hug a tall woman in a cold, gaudy golden armor? At least, no one like that apart from him came to her mind. "O' Earth Goddess, hear your child's plea…"

Originally, the word 'Cybele' wasn't native from the current era of Greece. She came from Anatolia, far to the southeast from Colchis, beyond Shirō's first golden queen's territory. Far, far older than most deities, going back to the era of Velber as one of its first victims, her teachings became one of the backbone of the Protogenoi of Greece as her followers migrated westward after their pantheon's destructions. This was one of the data packs Zeus used to create Athena without the act of consummation, as well as the one she used to 'birth' Medusa and her sisters as well.

From the earliest stone manifestations of her figure, to the Mystic Eyes of Petrification pushed to the highest limit in Medusa's current form. This line of history was certainly steeped in Mystery and Conceptual Weight, and thus difficult to control, even with Athena's impromptu seal on the young girl's forehead when she was young.

Worse, Blood Fort Andromeda was still active, and it took all of Medusa's countenance to not direct its viciousness on her new family. That's why she panicked quickly when Cybele went berserk, because she could feel her control was slipping for both of these weapons, and an uncontrollable blade was useless for everyone.

**Kibisis  
**_~ Bag of Barrier Inversion ~_

The strange, alien-to-Medusa magic characteristic entered from the tips of Shirō's fingers inside her, through the pores on the surface of her armor and skin – because the two were essentially the same, just as an exoskeleton and endoskeleton of an evolved creature – and passing via her the various Magic Cores inside her. Finally, it settled around the magical pathways around her orbital bones, softly covering Cybele like a childhood blanket or a beloved home curtain.

A red tribal lettering flashed brightly on her forehead, interacting and working together with this new insertion, before Medusa finally felt the overwhelming pressure bursting forth from inside her subside: from her core near the navel, to the vital point at her heart, to the control hub in her brain, and finally the out-of-control eyes.

Was the Mystic Code handed to Perseus in the past capable of restraining Cybele's full might like this? Of course not.

However, all of those problems depended greatly on the people who wielded them. In an amateur's hands like Perseus's, perhaps he would've succeeded in facing a mindless beast, where luck played a greater factor than in fighting against an intelligent and experienced opponent. Additionally, the array of Mystic Codes he received – which later would evolve into Noble Phantasms – were mostly autonomous anyway, in term of operating them to their maximum potential.

Unfortunately, that wasn't enough for the current Medusa.

Reinforcement. Alteration. Projection.

…and, finally, Reality Marble's 'creating the impossible'.

Simply the basics. Several of the first Mysteries a magus would've been taught as a child.

…well, alright. Not the last one, because that would entail a truly horrible childhood, one enough to warp an innocent soul into something capable of producing a Reality Marble. But, yet again, not impossible to learn easily and quickly, if one had the right… _aptitude_.

Unlimited Blade Works wasn't supposedly able to create its own original weapon at the level of a Noble Phantasm. By its very nature, it's steeped in not only the quality of their creation, but also the experience they were used under and the imprinted soul of its owners. Therefore, only things without a 'soul' could be created from parts of the blueprints collected inside a Reality Marble, making them simply over-powerful Mystic Codes.

However, that was [Infinite Sword Creation]. EMIYA's signature Noble Phantasm, as well as 'Shirō Emiya's' prized Magecraft.

This was [Boundless Phantom Forge], where spirits and graveyards lie, regrets and dreams rampaged, along with ideals and aspirations soaring high, creating the ground, sky, and scenery in it.

The seven steps of [Tracing], the Magecraft Medea had just learned, was also deconstructed into much smaller components, enabling its user to manipulate and mix the required steps to achieve the optimum product. There's always a negativity cast upon forgeries, even when it's practically better than the original because of its cheaper and faster production methods, and exactly the same quality-wise. Of course, the sentimental value of a one-of-a-kind object far exceeded a readily-available object, and this was actually the bone of contention between Gilgamesh and SHIRŌ – not the fact he could copy her entire treasury so easily.

Kibisis, naturally, was no longer the strangely-simple sack which held the concept of an anti-sealing, mirror-like Bounded Field. In this world where Breaker Gorgon still didn't exist, Shirō had to create a makeshift stopper for this evolved version of Cybele, which only the fully-matured Gorgon could wield. Yes, Athena's blood seal already did a magnificent job, even now, because without it, Medusa would've already lost her mind the instant she consumed those two crystallized virgin blood gems, going berserk and annihilating everything which moved around her.

Could he create a Mystic Eyes Killer with everything he had and under the pressure they're in now? Among Atalanta's and Medea's concerned stares… he'd admit he couldn't. in fact, even if he was given all the time and support in the world, it's unlikely he'd be able to produce something as good as the one the Medusa 'Shirō Emiya' knew wore after the Fifth Holy Grail War, or the creation of Aoko Aozaki, one of the last remaining modern Magicians, for her beloved student.

So, the answer was 'no'.

But, because Medusa was right here in his arms, with her intense smell filling his nose to the point of numbness and headache, he had to do _something_.

Again: Reinforcement. Alteration. Projection.

Those were the only three spells 'Shirō Emiya' knew, and so did everything SHIRŌ was made of.

From those three, the best suited to modify something as powerful and mystical as Kibisis, which was a weapon of the gods, was Alteration. Reinforcement was only useful on imperfect objects, and one steeped with Mysteries like Kibisis – something specifically created to kill a world-ending catastrophe such as Gorgon – had very little room of improvement apart from creating a Broken Phantasm.

Projection? Well, that and Tracing were the final steps, and thus lack the modifying power their preceding steps had. While a sufficiently strong mind could Project another attribute into an already-existing object, it's far too inefficient to do so. In fact, Projection in its natural state was practically useless for Magecraft above a certain level – which was why Shirō himself stuck with Tracing.

He disagreed with Rin Tōsaka on many things, but this insult was something he couldn't find a rebuttal to, when she criticized the lack of ability in 'Shirō Emiya' when they were young.

"Astral Phantasm."

With those two words, Kibisis's information data was pulled out of Unlimited Blade Works, where the original was stored after taking them from Perseus's hands… and taken apart. Instead of each singularity creating a similar planar, then constructing a spatial form where a 'soul' could be inserted… the other way around was done. To take apart its Mysteries layer by layer, discarding what's useless and retaining what's useful, to strip everything down and create an overspecialized item of a different attribute, birthed from the original, but far stronger in one aspect.

Just like 'Shirō Emiya' before him, in regards to the [Sword].

Kibisis's original sack tore itself apart at its magical seams, before reconstructing itself into a neck choker. The latter in itself held an intricate piece of violet blindfold with a pair of anchor points either side of the neck, which summarily slapped onto Medusa's still-scorching eyes.

Heroic Vessel's SHIRŌ's version of Breaker Gorgon.

Was it perfect? Absolutely not. Functional? Very well yes.

* * *

"It seems I wasn't necessary."

"Of course not. You never are," Atalanta pointed out rudely to Chiron, who simply laughed awkwardly.

Not because he's finding her barbs particularly funny, but because his assistants and underlings glared at her fiercely for those words, however true. Of course, there's plenty of personal enmity between the two which couldn't be shared to these people, so misunderstandings like these should be waved off like a casual banter, lest they'd invite more trouble than its worth.

Were her words meaningful? In a way, yes. The position of the Adventurers' Guild Master could be held by any seasoned administrator, who's completely neutral and capable of negotiating between any two opposing parties. This, many people had similar attitudes to Chiron. With these traits, one could even conceivably expand the organization in a similar manner and speed compared to him. Managing difficult people was the prerequisite of being a leader, and thus more than one person could sensibly do that as well.

Additionally, every good thing he did only heightened his reputation instead of his race, which meant centaurs still had the ugly history circulating around. That was simply how horrible they were to other people, and the way they lived was completely incompatible with the current era.

And while it's unreasonable to expect the Guild's response force to come far faster than what they achieved just now to the scene of the battle, that wouldn't be what the public saw, and what the victims would desire. More so that the latter was Atalanta, who's renowned for her difficult personality.

"That's enough, Atalanta." A hand rubbed her head rather strongly, to which she purred publicly without any embarrassment. Shirō's face showed up from behind her, incredibly serious. "Instead of lambasting him, you should milk him for repair damages by playing along his guilt."

"That's not helping!" The centaur howled, glaring at the S-Ranker, while his underlings from before snickered behind him. "Don't listen to him, Miss Atalanta! And all of you; stop laughing!"

Even Medusa and Medea were giggling nearby.

Speaking of the former, she's… shrunk.

Back to her original size, she's comfortably sitting inside Atalanta's lap, being hugged just as fiercely as the past. While she was uncomfortable with the forceful way she did it back then, their time together had drawn them closer together and truly cementing the concept of 'family' in their heads. Thus, while it's not ideal, she's quite alright being used as a hug pillow once again.

Such was her adorable appearance Medea was eager to get her turn, but Atalanta's palm stretched out and pushed her face away to delay the inevitable – Shirō's quiet statement for them to switch places.

It's hardly surprising, considering the sudden growth spurts she's been experiencing lately. Any positive movements would often be balanced with the negatives, and from the amount of energy she's expanding with her latest stunt, a drawback was inevitable. It's already fortunate she's not injured in any way, and only reverted back to her original size after such a tough battle.

Shaking his head, Shirō stepped towards Chiron with sympathy in his eyes, before patting him on the shoulder. "I have some things to take care of. If anyone from Arcadia's royal family came, just direct them to their current rightful ruler."

"SHIIIIIIRŌŌŌŌŌŌŌŌŌŌŌŌ!" Atalanta protested, but her husband only shot her a meaningful smirk and wandered off somewhere, much to her fuming.

Medea took the opportunity to wrestle the tired Medusa from her laps and into her own hug, their closeness in size making a more comical and endearing sight than the veteran huntress.

Chiron could only sigh wearily at the problems now dumped onto him. _'Clean-ups are the worst…'_

Indeed, looking around, there's not much left of the famous Arcadian forest anymore. While Atalanta took the precaution to evacuate most of the local creatures in the early stages of the battle, inevitably, there's also a substantial amount of beast corpses lying around. The divine sacrifice of a boar which facilitated the attack laid near the huntress, its soul already ascended to Artemis's side to fulfil its original role, and its carcass cleaned and processed by the time Chiron and his people arrived.

He could feel Atalanta weakening because of this, the Domain granted to her by Artemis being razed to the ground, though she looked as fierce as ever to the large amount of outsiders gathered around for the clean-up jobs.

There's always something to be salvaged after such a destructive battle, chiefly because there's almost no irregularly-shaped debris around. A large-scale combat like this would produce finer and flatter areas, where area-of-effect spells and attacks were prevalent, easing the excavating duties. The wood shrapnel could always be processed into charcoal, while the tilled ground was suitable for replantation immediately because of the lack of extreme heat used in their battle against Ars Theurgia. For instance, lightning and infernal Magecraft would've scorched the land into glass, requiring any remodeling to scrape off all of those to reveal the useable topsoil again.

And… just as the redhead predicted, a royal convoy could be spotted in the distance, easier due to the reopened landscape.

Led by a familiar face – the one who got kicked to the Adventurers' Guild's wall by Atalanta the first time they met, in fact, they quickly spread around and prostrated themselves to her.

Knowing what their intentions were, Chiron went away to concentrate on the final touches to secure the area and prevent any untoward actions which seemed to always follow these kinds of events. Last time, Atalanta dumped all the public relations after that event, so he'd get his revenge any way he could get.

* * *

"Not sticking around to watch the rest of it?" I ask the woman, who has her back turned towards me.

She's far slighter than I expect, with a body not much bigger than Medusa's current form. It's unfortunate I didn't have the time to check on them after rushing here from Athena's domain, given my wives were just involved with the greatest battle in their lives where I wasn't there. A victory against this incomplete tome would do their mentality good, after being trashed around by Poseidon as soon as Medea's power faded.

Of course, a sense of relief washed over me the moment I saw their tired but proud faces after I calmed Medusa down from a form even I haven't seen.

"Your penchant of using jokes to start conversations is already an outdated trick," Pandora immediately shoots back without looking at me. "You should use a more confrontational attitude against someone like me. Take it as an advice from a senior."

"I refuse."

What does she expect, really?

"Shame. I was looking forward to fighting you for Ars Theurgia's core, but this time, I'll let you have it."

Her casual tone causes me to narrow my eyes, as Od floods both of our bodies.

We're currently some way away from the scene of Ars Theurgia's battle against my wives. Apparently, Pandora arrived around the same time as me, but chose to observe from afar instead of supporting one of her supposed 'children', allowing me to collect its remains and seal it back into tome form. It's surprisingly intact, showcasing my women's lack of raw ultimate power and lethality when compared to me, Herakles, or Hecate, to the point Medusa needed to take that gamble despite not being ready for it.

So, why? If she's there, at the very least, she could safeguard Ars Theurgia from Alaya's hands. There's no way I could stop her while protecting Atalanta, Medea, and Medusa at the same time.

There's also her words earlier…

"What game are you playing?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Finally, she turns towards me, enabling me to see the glowing azure runes carved into her skin in a tribal geometric pattern.

It eerily mirrors my crimson sword-links whenever I unleash my full power… though that, too, is somewhat predictable.

In a way, she's my older sister, after all.

"…or do you want me to engage, anyway?"

"Be my guest. I'm not worried about a defective product's taunts," I speak out some bravado, but she doesn't take the bait.

"First, jokes… and now cheap shots? How unimaginative of you…" Her tiny body, no more than the size of a pre-teen, shimmers with power and killing intent. "How about we have a race? Of speed, of course…"

I tense my body imperceptibly.

"…which one is faster? Your Knight Arms, or mine? Your Reality Marble, or mine? Who can kill the other party first while also protecting what they hold precious?" Her childish face contorts with a dreadful grin, adding, "Isn't that a worthy contest between the two of us?"

I realize something, and immediately close my eyes along with activating my Pure Eyes at the same time.

Normal vision is unnecessary at this moment – merely a distraction. Trust my mystical senses and battle-honed instincts…

"That's a very well-made doppelganger," I admit after several moments. "If you want a contest, then use your actual body first before you talk."

To create a physical object well enough to fool me… Is this her ability? Derived from her skill to 'birth' creatures like her five tomes?

This doll in front of me certainly have enough Conceptual Weight to fool anyone without my abilities. Just like how I'm able to create swords indistinguishable from the originals, or even better, so too she has reached this pinnacle of body-creation.

She was the first human, soaked in the Authority of [Creation] from her 'father', Hephaestus, as well as Zeus's verbal permission and order. In this era, spoken words hold so much more power than in modern times, and with those said by a chief deity, their weight was far beyond any strongest geas created by modern Magecraft.

This was the potential Alaya saw in her when she first decided this newborn girl was to be the next Heroic Vessel after the previous failed attempt. Unfortunately, all Heroic Vessels retain their personalities and quirks, simply because of our very nature and tasks… and Pandora's were found to be incompatible with what Alaya has wanted.

She can't let go of her hatred and envy towards everything and everyone around her, getting drunk on her own power – ironically just like those she loathes the most – thinking she can and should change everything she dislikes just because she has the ability to do so.

What a contradiction. Such a description usually merits an instinctual person, whose logic and common sense are predictable because they're simple… and not this scheming individual in front of me, smiling as if she's the most pitiable creature in the world.

Which isn't far from the truth, for those who only know her story and not her personality. Perhaps the original Pandora, one from my previous deployment into this era, is exactly that: a victim.

This one _definitely_ isn't.

She notices my line of thought, using the exact same technique I use to worm my way towards my wives' heart: the Heroic Vessels' ability to empathize with others by virtue of their initial emptiness.

My mistake. I allow my deeper thoughts to reach the surface, where I should know she can read these easily.

Unlike me, who surround myself with loving partners and supportive colleagues – and I'm including Herakles in that list – she had the misfortune to be around perhaps the two most dysfunctional deities in the current Greek pantheons, which I personally think contributes to her current personality. In fact, it was a surprise to me the previous time I was here, because I am a firm believer of 'nurture' versus 'nature'.

I mean… look at me.

It's a wonder the 'other Pandora' turned out to be a sweet girl… not that I've met her or anything. Her existence and role didn't overlap with my time there, as she became one of my disciples' partner instead.

"If that's all, then, _I'll see you soon_."

That's the parting line she chooses, before she cuts off support for this doppelganger and let it dissipate into nothingness, leaving me with the urge to grit my teeth loudly at my surroundings.

She's correct. I made a mistake earlier for not noticing she's fake – and, thus, harmless – and another when I let my thoughts become available to her.

Two false moves. Enough to put everyone I hold dear in danger, especially with someone of her caliber. If that was the real one, instead of a doppelganger, then any engagement would go by faster than any attempt from me to protect the others. I might be able to erase her at the same time, but that would only be a pyrrhic victory.

Fortunately, before my frustration boils to the point of accidentally destroying Ars Theurgia, Alaya summons me to the shared grey room to collect it.


	31. The Lethal Boredom

**Hello, everyone! It's the half-obligatory breather chapter after a long battle scene. However, I tried to cram in as much plot-relevant information and subtle hints in this story, just to make it more efficient and effective. I'm glad you've all been liking the story so far, as we begin the transition to the last arcs with this chapter. Do read it carefully, digest what I'm alluding with, and let me know what you think with your reviews, PMs, or discussions. Also, for those who have basic questions, I implore you to read the previous chapters' AN (yes, even as far back as Ch. 2), because I answer as much as I can in those sections.  
**

**Mailbag time!  
****Greyfox2: [the reply's excerpt] Thanks for the review! [...] Oh, you mean the AN. [...] Regarding Medea's CE, I no longer play FGO, so my knowledge of it is mostly second-hand.  
Mythic Imagination: ****Thank you for the review. I've realized the issue you're addressing, but I still feel like I can't do much more to cater to what I perceive to be most readers' habit and preference. By those, I mean how they often skip through and forget about things mentioned only once in previous chapters, because I myself occasionally have the same problems. Besides, the things you mentioned won't get involved much in future chapters, so I feel I have to emphasize more on their fleeting appearance while I can to avoid making them passing mentions and side objects.  
Stratos263: ****Yes, though it'll mostly be a slow process. As you can see, overusage of it does have its consequences.**

**As always, let me know what you think. The next update will be slower (yet again...) because I'll head out of town tomorrow. See you guys later!**

* * *

The nameless man watched on as the Arcadian messenger-slash-diplomat rushed to and fro happily, just like a lap dog which had just gotten praised by his master. Of course, the nature of their job and the master they now answer to were different, so his opinions would likely be invalid simply because of this reason.

An assassin and a public figure operated on different planes of existence, after all. However, what's universal should be a personal reaction to the stupidity emanating from this male person from the masses around him – even though he's in Arcadia, where they should whole-heartedly support him for achieving and triumphing over his failure from before.

Who hadn't heard of his treatment by Atalanta in the Adventurers' Guild? Where he's kicked through all the furniture and into the wall simply because he attempted to touch her? Public rumors grew worse, and some stories even had him sexually harassing the princess, which naturally legitimized her action even though that could be interpreted as an insult to the kingdom. Those more attuned to politics realized this was nothing more than her personality and his actions – considered quite normal by the onlookers at that time – clashing due to their incompatibility, though this didn't stop the more uneducated public to harass him back every chance they had.

The source of his happiness was easy to understand.

Just a few weeks ago, the entire Greece was shocked at the sudden passing of Iasus, the King of Arcadia, due to an 'undisclosed illness'. Only the related parties knew of what actually happened, which entailed the smuggling of a divine sacrifice as well – a crime worthy of an execution in the first place, even for rulers and kings.

Why? Because divine sacrifice, festivals, and times of prayers were crucial to a _poleis_'s survival… quite literally. In a world ruled by deities, no matter how high humanity's worth was in comparison to the modern era, one displeasing act in front of their eyes would warrant annihilation, massacre, and abandonment, leaving the humans without divine protection and supervision to the macabre waiting for them from the faithless villains.

These applied even to the more 'benevolent' or 'aloof' deities, though these personalities were, more often than not, human creation… which ended up transforming their Divine Graphs into what the worshipers thought of the deities they're praying to, perverting their true origin into something else. This process could sometimes be so extreme it gave birth to a whole new deity, such as a derivative of it used to create the Gorgon sisters.

Therefore, an object as important and heavily-invested into as the Calydonian Boar was of an utmost importance to an entire kingdom, because it's planned to be sacrificed in the yearly ritual as a show of gratitude of the bounty Artemis had blessed their nature. No one should escape punishment in embezzling it, much less being directly responsible for its death… including Iasus.

If so, then shouldn't those below him also be implicated? No matter how much a king threw his weight around, it's difficult to move around an item this important without anyone noticing, especially with the widespread use of Magecraft even among the normal populace. They're sensitive enough to get a feel of what's happening in the palace, despite its protective charms – which was the primary reason how the gossip of Atalanta's abandonment spread so quickly all those years ago.

Iasus's body was delivered back soon after that horrendous battle in the forests of Arcadia, where witnesses from afar saw the destruction and flattening of a large green area – now simply a dead land – and was buried without any delays, deliberately being kept simple to signify his criminal and scandalous deeds, not only once, but twice. The people still remembered his sins which broke the royal family apart, and they wouldn't forgive the fact their hard-earned tax money would be used to fund the burial ceremony of such a person.

Ushered quickly into the royal mausoleum, without any carvings of procession and ritual laments, jewelry, weapons, and so on, Iasus's burial chest was as plain as a servant's.

Oh, how the minds of the people were feeble. When Iasus was managing Arcadia finely, helping it grow into a prosperous nation, no citizen was there to congratulate and sing him praises. But only when he did things wrongly – those which could be argued was simply caused by the weaknesses of a human being – he was lambasted to no end, lowering his popularity even further undeservingly.

And now, no one would remember his name bar from the mistakes he made in life, not his accomplishments. Not even future grave robbers would realize the casket they're ransacking belonged to a former ruler, surely to be treated as trash and discarded to one side in favor of his sole daughter's.

The nameless man could only sigh in admiration at the manipulation done by his now-sworn master, one which he duly reported to his previous commander-in-chief but failed to respond to.

He still remembered all those months ago, when he last felt His Highness Jason's blade kissing his neck.

Oh, it's not due to the fear of death. The nameless man had accepted it as a regular risk in his occupation the moment he agreed to have his own 'self' erased from the livelihoods of those around him to allow him to execute his tasks more readily.

It's the promise of _something even worse_ awaiting him if he went against the royal prince that night.

Granted, it was a major faux pas to spy on His Highness Jason's private time. Despite having cast away any notion of a relationship a long time ago, the nameless man could wrap his head around the idea of the wish to be left alone with one's loved ones, especially someone as powerful and influential as the prince. He deserved it, because he's powerful enough to protect those lovely ladies against any and all threats, from the nameless man's point of view.

No wonder the Arcadian man he's observing was happy. Not only did their ruler – one who's now so negatively viewed by the populace – replaced by his legitimate offspring, Atalanta, the kingdom also gained the presence of a powerful individual… perhaps the strongest among the current generation of heroes. His Highness's reputation preceded himself, which meant Arcadia wouldn't be thrust into an ugly succession battle over who should lead the now-kingless kingdom.

While Princess Atalanta's personality was… difficult, to say the least, the public didn't truly believe and know that, as she rarely operated inside Arcadia itself apart from returning to her humble home inside the forest. The bad rumors about her were thus justified by the people as a quirky, but adorable personal trait, and some thought it's simply a deliberate ruse to badmouth her and ruin her reputation.

That, too, he suspected was the work done by His Highness with the assistance of the Adventurers' Guild's Master, Chiron. Unlike the prior issue, the nameless man had lesser circumstantial evidence to validate this theory, but his gut feeling told him it's correct.

Truly, under that courageous and kind face lied a scheming snake far more vicious than those who came before him, including the Olympians.

Therefore, shouldn't the nameless man secure his own backside and jump ship from the soon-to-be-doomed Iolchos? It's not an exaggeration he worried for that particular kingdom's survival, given the illogical manner King Pelias was acting lately. While the current official prince had good prospects, in a way that he's not influenced by his father's strange obsession with His Highness Jason, it wouldn't be too late to apologize to His Highness Acastus regarding the nameless man's betrayal to his cousin's side. In fact, the former might reward him in return for safeguarding Iolchos's sensitive information and placing it under the protection of one of Greece's most powerful individuals, securing the kingdom's future.

With the matter settled with frightening efficiency – again, perhaps due to the background laid out already since time immemorial by His Highness Jason – Atalanta was crowned Queen of Arcadia, with himself acting as the King Consort, indirectly announcing he wouldn't meddle too much with internal politics. While the nameless man didn't believe this intention was sincere – after all, according to his information regarding the new queen, her husband had always had a profound influence on her – it calmed the populace down from the fear Arcadia would eventually become Iolchos's vassal puppet state.

For people like the nameless man – i.e. the highest-ranked information officials – a future where Iolchos, Arcadia, and Colchis would merge into one large hegemony was a very possible reality.

Fortunately, for the common folks, it's not something they should worry about.

So, what was his new master's motives for doing this? Petty revenge on those who wronged him and the people he loved? It's a possibility, though the nameless man's observation of His Highness Jason always portrayed a thoughtful, complicated individual, with the capability and habit of separating his instinctive desires from affecting his actions.

How could a cold, calculative person like him be motivated by such… _simple_ thoughts? The nameless man disregarded the word 'petty' for this mental argument, because one simply couldn't fathom how much a trivial thing meant to another person, but it's close. Did His Highness truly harbor the ambition of world conquest? If so, then he had to…

The nameless man's thought forcibly screeched to a halt as he realized something.

To do what he just thought of… His Highness Jason would need to destroy Olympus itself. Completely and utterly, leaving no other individual to be revered and worshipped other than him.

His heart skipped a beat. How could he not think of this possibility before? Berating himself, he bit his lower lips to stifle the frightened growl brewing inside his stomach.

Yes, he's used to kill his emotions and thoughts away on missions. However, when faced by an extinction-level threat like this… even he couldn't help but shiver with his entire body at the thought.

…perhaps joining His Highness's side wasn't such a good idea after all?

* * *

"Elysium… I can see Elysium…"

Medusa calmly patted the back of a groaning Atalanta, limp and powerless after sessions and sessions of official meetings and reports. Truly, despite having lived as the _de facto_ queen of the forests they're living in previously, actual royal duties were completely outside of her interests or specialization. Her hands, normally wiry and illogically powerful to be able to draw Tauropolos, were now locked up due to excessive writing and signing on parchments containing Arcadia's domestic affairs.

Even with Medea assisting, as well as several hired secretaries from the Adventurers' Guild, the majority of the responsibility still fell onto her lap, causing her to be swamped under literal mountains of paperwork.

Now, inside the royal chamber, she let her ears and tail roam freely, though they, too, laid without energy and flat against her body.

From a close distance, Medusa could feel Atalanta's spirit draining away into a dangerous level – one enough to be automatically summoned into Charon's boat at the River Styx. However, knowing that old boatman wouldn't dare mess around with Shirō's 'possessions', so the little girl just smiled sympathetically at the older woman.

Being back in this form sure took her back to those happy days, where she lived her lifelong dream among her cherished family. Not that anything's changed now – and some would argue life's just gotten better for the young Gorgon – but she was never one of luxury and accolades, so those days of simply living in the forest and feeding off nature was the most precious to her.

Certainly, it all came as a surprise for her. Having known Atalanta was royalty for some time, Medusa's suspicions regarding her relationship with her own family was confirmed after she bared it all – her past, her story, how she came to be with Shirō, etc. – so it's even more shocking when Arcadian messengers and diplomats came as a group when they're still cleaning off the battle's remains and requested for Atalanta to be their new ruler.

However, those didn't even come close to how slack Medusa's jaw became when Atalanta accepted, rather than turning them all away… preferably violently, just like she'd done numerous times in the past. And that's even without Shirō's input!

Thus, in a whirlwind of activity so intense Medusa wasn't sure what's going on… they ended up here, inside Arcadia's royal palace, lounging around like they owned the place.

Well, that statement's not necessarily untrue, but still… It's the thought which counted!

Medusa was sad when the forest she loved was destroyed. Perhaps not to the extent of Atalanta's love for it, but she's still a being born from people and nature. However, the royal palace's environment surprised her, in a sense that vegetation was actually a part of the entire complex's design, instead of being a decorative afterthought. Just like the small house Atalanta and Shirō built – which was destroyed during their battle with the Calydonian Boar – this palace, too, married human structure and nature as best as it could.

Perhaps Atalanta and her father shared more things than they thought or care to admit?

Despite her relative inexperience in interpersonal relationships, even Medusa knew not to bring this thought up and out loud.

\- Clack.

The sound of the grand door opening brought Medusa out of her thoughts.

Their chamber was gated by a Magecraft-controlled door made out of near-indestructible vines. Thick and flexible, the wood tentacles wrapped around themselves and into the solid structure silently and efficiently, giving a surreal feeling whenever one walked through it with permission. The noise was installed to give the inhabitants inside it a semblance of warning and normality, since the way these vines allowed passage meant it's near-silence in its operation, even with the amount and scale of vegetation unraveling to allow anyone in or out.

Of course, the only ones allowed in this room was her husband and fellow wives.

There's no need for maids and servants in here, because the moment they were accepted into the building, Shirō and Medea immediately remodeled the entire structure's magical enhancements and enchantments to remove any unnecessary points of liability, such as workers. This room had automated cleaning and maintenance system, which actually gave off a more natural feel and atmosphere to it, since practically the forest themselves were doing the dirty work, decomposing and using their leftovers as nutrition to strengthen and feed itself.

"Muu…!"

Without any warning, Atalanta leapt off the bed and rocketed towards Shirō's expectant embrace, accompanied by Medea's giggles who had predicted this reaction as soon as the older woman excused herself from her administrative duties earlier.

"Uuu… Pat me… Spoil me…" She mumbled incoherently into her husband's chest, with all of her limbs wrapped around him like a bear. "I cannot take it anymore…"

He obliged, using the tips of his fingers to brush her unkempt hair and tease the soft fur around and inside her ears, while using his palm to rub the crown of her now-steaming head. He could feel the imbalance in her body temperature, from her overworked brain to her cold, numb lower parts, but he could merely hold her close and comfort her, knowing what she's going through was necessary.

Also, predictably, the other two girls in the room approached him after several seconds of allowing Atalanta some exclusive time with him, and he felt two distinct hands pull either side of his clothes.

Looking at the pleading, teary stares of his other two wives – though he's quite sure they're faked quite a bit – he just chuckled and carried all three of them onto the bed, after hoisting the trio of slim, soft, fragrant bodies with both of his arms, eliciting a good yelp from all of them.

"Really, you all… We haven't even taken a bath yet, and you want to roll around on the bed? Look at you!" He chided softly, releasing his hold on them, though their arms were still somewhat outstretched towards his body, all needy and hungry for more. "What do you think?"

Medusa's excited proclamation was all they needed to move from the bed – which was automatically cleaned by the room itself, by design, into the bath.

It might look like a redundant action, really, to put the delectable women on top of the bed before asking them to take a bath with him, but since the clean-up wasn't too strenuous or troublesome, he decided to go along with it just to get them off his back. After all, similar to Atalanta, his head felt a little fuzzy from all the administrative duties he'd just performed… but never would words of outright rejection come out of his mouth.

Perhaps he'd been spoiling them too much? After all, they'd all tasted what an all-out session of sex with him was like. He wouldn't dare claim he's the best Adonis the world had ever seen, past, present or future – only that he's an incredible student. He could always be better, because he's the first one to realize he's not perfect by any stretch of the imagination.

Yes, he'd also admit it's not the first time he used sex to worm his final steps into a desired partner's heart. After all, there's only so much an emotional connection could provide one with mental and spiritual satisfaction – and, by default, living in an era where Mystery was so dense in the air meant any exchange of bodily fluids would achieve much greater effects than a comparable act in modern times. Therefore, the act itself would inadvertently increase the level of affection towards him inside the woman – just like Alaya planned.

Did he like this method? Partially, no. But he's not one to talk about it, particularly when he, too, physically and emotionally enjoyed his time with his women.

Much like their private chamber, the door towards the royal bath was also made out of intertwining vines, but with one major difference: it's on the floor.

\- Clack.

Similarly, it also had an artificial sound installed because it's too silent to warn anyone inside from any intruders, welcomed or otherwise. However, it seemed too overbearing when one thought about it, since the only ones allowed in these two places – and a few others – were the royal families and preferred guests. Again, it's to remove any need for human maintenance as part of Shirō's and Medea's upgrade to the entire thing.

As soon as it closed behind them, Medea was the first to disrobe and stole a kiss from her husband, pulling his hand and leading him onto the bath. The tired Atalanta followed soon after, with Medusa being the most meticulous and folded her long robe to one side, instead of throwing everything everywhere in an action filled with impatient carnal desire.

A soft, silky ribbon of light enveloped all of them, courtesy of Medea, to cleanse off their bodies so they could all jump into the bath immediately. She and Medusa had already let their hairs down, tickling Shirō's vision with two curtains of varying colors of violet. A bright blonde shade cut through them, augmented by Atalanta's jade gradation, as she nuzzled her naked body onto his among the milky white water.

The other two, being fresher, decided to tease their husband with a show, slowly and sultrily walking towards him with nary a thread on their body.

Well, as much as their slim bodies – especially Medusa's current form – could provide, anyway.

Their budding chests, hardened nipples of varying shades and sizes, Medusa's smooth pubic mound and tight slit, and Medea's thin carpet of purple strands covering her blooming lower lips made their way into his view. From his sitting position, he extended his arms, which both girls took and placed them onto their bodies to pleasure themselves.

"Zzz…"

Meanwhile, Atalanta had already fallen asleep, unaware her turn was being taken over by her fellow wives.

* * *

Meanwhile, Acastus was in an identical situation to his cousin and his wives earlier, where a wall of documents blocked his vision entirely around him.

Unlike them, though, his enthusiasm was still firing high, despite facing the same thing day in, day out after his father's disappearance.

Yes, Pelias was nowhere to be seen, but his son was ready to take his place.

Also, he took the liberty of moving Jason's parents back to their original rooms in the palace, since no one was around to oppose that. The guards, workers, and maids warmly welcomed them back – as much as they respect King Pelias's ability to govern and rule over Iolchos, their knowledge of what transpired between him and his brother was far more accurate than the common folk, especially the senior staffs. Over time, the resentment and enmity of the forceful dethronement did subside, but they never forgot Pelias's sins. Only his excellent job as a ruler kept them from speaking too much – after all, he took care of them well, with nary a salary went delayed and sickness uncared for.

Aeson and Alcimedes were also busy on the other desks, willingly assisting their nephew in dealing with the sudden increase in workload.

Apparently, Pelias hadn't been doing his duties prior to his disappearance, and without a supervisory board pressing him, no one figured out until the issue was discovered by the palace workers a few days ago. Therefore, this thing happened, but because of Acastus's excellence and the former king and queen's calming influence, everything soon ran normally after a minor hiccup.

There wasn't even time for an official inauguration ceremony to crown Acastus, but the workload steadily decreased, as the young man took on the brunt of the work.

In this way, he did take over his father.

However, as was clear to everyone who knew the two – Acastus and Jason – the current acting king's attitude towards his cousin was the complete opposite when compared to his father.

Stories of how he secretly attended his cousin's wedding in Arcadia had already circulated quite widely among the populace. And while his grasp over Iolchos's entirety wasn't quite as profound as Pelias, due to his inexperience, he was an eager learner, which led him to this current relationship with Jason.

The young, naïve prince who simply wished to be friends with everyone and understand everything. The older, wizened prince who simply wished for his friends' and family's happiness and understand his enemies.

One whose father was the epitome of pragmatism, excellence, and attention to detail, yet allowed his desires to control himself. One whose father was beloved by everyone, yet weaker in every measurable aspect, and allowed those around him to dictate his desires.

In a series of 'coincidences', the two met and struck a close friendship, camaraderie, and brotherhood ever since.

However, a new influx of letters and reports came this morning, containing the latest information regarding the newly-crowned Queen of Arcadia. While this meant their estimated finishing time took a hit, the three in the room couldn't help themselves but be happy for Jason, because he'd just become Arcadia's proxy king.

Oh, the people might speculate, but they didn't dare talk out of fear their words were detectable by the shift in Mystery around them. In this era, spoken language bore a heavy responsibility, and any gossip and rumor could easily be traced by a well-trained professional in this style of Magecraft. However, someone of Acastus's status could easily voice their opinion out loud if they believed it's enough of a truth to merit such risk.

Besides, even without speaking, he could see how much his cousin and his wife – well, now _wives_ – loved each other, simply from how they looked and behaved around each other. While he hadn't personally met or be introduced to the younger ones, he did saw them in the wedding, and thus he presumed they had a good relationship going forwards.

A palace harem wasn't all intrigues and drama and backstabbing, unlike what the minstrels would lead the public to believe. Most of the time, aside from some competitive fervor, the women did get along well, especially in the more secluded harems in stricter kingdoms. There's no sense in building up factions and plotting around each other when they, more often than not, slept in the same room and saw each other every day. Sure, there were the leader and follower types, but even that's quite controlled due to the presence of the king.

Also, unlike popular belief, the king rarely neglected them into some cold corner in the palace. Other than bedchamber duties, the women also spent time chatting of personal, calming subjects with the king, where they would behave like a 'normal' family and speak of things unsuitable to be presented in the royal court. While he did have to split his attention, it's unlikely one of the women would be alienated just like her dramatized versions in songs and stories.

Jason's harem was still small, and personally, Acastus looked up to that model. He didn't desire many women himself, and while he had a few lovers on the side, their number had stabilized over the past years as they got acquainted with each other. He intended to keep it that way, so his children would be able to live in a stable environment without the need of ambition and cunning.

He's personally not sure what his aunt and uncle were thinking, but he doubted they disapprove of Jason's choice in women. In this era, relationships between in-laws were acceptably distant, owing to the lack of accessible instant communication – even with the help of Magecraft – and the respectful mannerism each party had to the other's privacy. There were often times when a child brought home their partner and married soon after, with no more than their parents' presence required for approval. Of course, the other methods were also commonplace, but the former was far from being unheard of.

Of course, there were also things he declined to speak to them about, other than confirming this incredibly simple and inevitable thing.

His plan to unite the crowns of Iolchos and Arcadia.

Of course, it wouldn't be literally, as the word 'crown' itself wouldn't be invented until at least one millennium later, unbeknownst to Acastus and the others. Perhaps the term of 'throne' would be better-suited – still, it wasn't the be-all-and-end-all for a ruling symbol, because only one individual was officially and acceptably allowed to use said term: the leader of the reigning pantheon. Even Zeus himself rarely sat on it, as he preferred to roam around Greece to patrol and sleep with women he fancied.

Additionally, the distance between the two kingdoms was great. It'd be more of an alliance Athens and Thebes were building recently, in the wake of Atlantis's sudden destruction and the various oracles' warnings of an imminent extinction event. While both kingdoms held good relationships with both alliances, neither were an official member, and Acastus was adamant in delaying things as much as possible until he could personally contact his cousin.

Who, in his mind, was gleefully enjoying the bodies of his beautiful wives, just like what he did yesterday when he officially brought his lovers to come live with him in the castle. The faster he got this done, the sooner Iolchos would be considered under Jason's protection – and with the two brothers together, Acastus firmly believed a utopia-like land would be possible to be born in Iolchos, or other parts of Greece.

He's under no illusion he's enough of a person to be able to properly defend Iolchos from each and every threat, while also valuing his loved ones. In fact, even being burdened by Aeson and Alcimedes like this was already nearing his limit, since he's currently only hanging on the foundations built by his uncle and now-missing father over the years. It's especially felt in the previous occasion when Jason asked him to come over and guard the elderly couple, since his status was still a prince at the time.

Also, wasn't one of Jason's wives a Colchian princess? If the three kingdoms could unite and forge an unbreakable alliance, then…

His dream might not be so far away, after all.

* * *

"Lonely, isn't it?"

"If you're looking for words of regret, then there is none in my heart."

"As always," Penthesilea muttered back, closing her eyes and sighing at her sister's form.

Their appearances were so different from one another that it's difficult for those who weren't paying proper attention to realize they were, in fact, related. Sure, their facial features might be similar, but the contrast between Penthesilea's albino colors and Hippolyta's more natural, tanned one was so great that thought wasn't difficult to justify. Besides, it's impolite to gaze at two royalties' faces for too long, lest the culprits be charged with harassment of the highest order.

It was mid-afternoon, but surprisingly, most of their administrative duties had been completed. While it could also mean the Amazons were declining as a whole, the two of them simply felt it's due to a job well done, instead of worrying about the future. A busy monarch meant there were often problems to deal with inside their domain, but also a wealth of prosperity to be managed.

In that aspect, the Amazons felt quite secure with their queen leading the way.

The reclamation of more cliff side area had been successful, as well as combining this gain with the newly-stabilized generation of hardier, but more productive crops. Their arid climate meant high-moisture produce was difficult to come by and cultivate, but they're making steady progress towards adapting desirable crops to their climate after a succession of joint studies with the newly-reformed Arcadia.

Thus, Penthesilea's question was two-fold. Was Hippolyta feeling lonely with the absence of Molpadia, or the child's father?

'_As always, she's not honest to her own self…'_ the white-haired princess lamented in her heart.

Since she was small, she looked up to her sister. To her, there's no existence stronger than Hippolyta at that age, even without accounting Ares's blessings upon the two of them.

However, as they grew, why was it Hippolyta merely looked more and more fragile as Penthesilea knew her better, and gained life experiences of her own?

Was it because she tasted the forbidden fruit: love? Honestly, the princess didn't believe that in the slightest. Despite Ares's negligence of pursuing emotional attachment to people not named 'enemies' – because doing so increased one's chance to empathize, understand, and eventually defeat them – she thought it'd be a good thing if a woman or a man naturally sook each other's company, as per the natural laws. It's only humanity's desire to pervert them that same-sex love could exist as beautifully as it was now, though obviously the universe itself kept trying to 'correct' this aberration.

Among Amazons, love between women weren't all that rare. Though normally they'd purchase male slaves who're pleasing to the eyes to procreate, the lack of someone of the same social standing as the women meant they sometimes sook the comfort of those close to them – another female… or _females_, for the more brazen ones.

So why was Hippolyta looked so troubled every day, more and more often lately? Oh, for sure the queen would deny such a thing, and she's practically blind to her own reflection in the bronze mirror in her room, requiring Penthesilea to point it out for her. Then, predictably, she'd coldly shoot her sister's suggestions down, placing the need of acting as a 'queen' in front of a 'woman'.

Unnecessarily, Penthesilea might add. There's no reason why the two attributes couldn't exist together at the same time. Didn't Arcadia just prove it? Even though Atalanta was the first female ruler in its history, the people accepted her well enough, along with the presence of the King Consort.

Women from the information department suggested this lack of unrest was caused by some shadowy background laid out by Jason, though they didn't have any solid evidence backing that theory. The Amazons were still trying to verify this rumor – after all, every whisper could be the beginning of a kingdom-toppling deluge – but the instability detected in Colchis, their close neighbor, meant they had to dedicate resources into investigating that first, instead of the faraway Arcadia.

Well, mentioning that fact right now would likely be detrimental to Hippolyta's mental health, so Penthesilea could only grit her teeth and see her sister suffer… simply because the latter just couldn't be honest with herself.

It's difficult to do so – she'd admit that much – because of their upbringing. While Ares didn't forbid or ridicule the concept of a romantic relationship, what he stressed was probably worse than outright banning the former: devotion to martial studies and might. Therefore, the Amazons were raised under the concept of 'might makes right', even if it didn't always involve physical combat. For instance, there's no questioning of Hippolyta's governing and political 'might' inside Amazon; therefore, no one challenged her decisions most of the time, with only the occasional polite protests and complains.

It's gotten to the point where it's hurting her, and she didn't even know it or want to recognize it!

Once again, after having tasted it so many times, Penthesilea could only sigh in regret.

If only she was better than her sister. Then, she would be queen, and Hippolyta and Molpadia could live away happily like a normal family.

If only she saw this problem earlier and pushed Jason further into this relationship. Then, the responsible man would've made more of an effort to stay and fight for the family to be together, instead of their current strained status.

If only Ares was more involved in the Amazons' day-to-day activity. Then, she could consult him what appropriate measures she could take so Hippolyta could still be both a 'queen' and a 'woman'.

Wait, no – come to think of it, the god himself wasn't particularly a decent example or role model to learn from. Perhaps the most she could do was confirm what's banned and what's not?

Shaking her head, she chose to end her self-introspection and join her sister on the porch near the royal study, noticing the contents of the set of drinks on the table wasn't the alcohol she's expecting, but milk and sliced fruits instead.

Smiling at the surprising tweak, she settled down and enjoyed the creaminess and sharpness of the combination, gulping several large cups in succession and with one breath. The fruit was cut small enough for adults to avoid having to chew, though clearly it's not meant for children of Molpadia's age to enjoy.

In this simple arrangement, her mood's already lifted. Setting aside the delicious treat, there's little doubt in her mind this recipe came from Jason, and thus signaling Hippolyta's beginning to accept her affection to him, and it couldn't be separated fully from her life – not if she wanted Molpadia to be happy.

Her mind could be playing tricks with her – a lifetime of politics would cause it to naturally form lines where insulated dots existed – but she's sure it's progress nonetheless.

"Will you visit Athens in the future? I think Molpadia's scheduled return will be soon, right?" The younger sister asked, halfway hoping her older sister would get the underlying meaning behind her words. "You two can take a nice vacation, for once."

"Perhaps. That's a good idea," Hippolyta nodded, letting her black bun-tied hair down for once. "We'll see…"

"You can stop there. There won't be a "We'll see…", and then everything which can go wrong will go wrong." Penthesilea glared, to which her sister replied with a small smile. "You've just jinxed it, haven't you? Why can't you put in more effort for her once, now that you have the chance? I can deal with things over here, since we won't receive attention after what Sir Jason – ah, should I address him as 'Lord', now? – did."

Even a direct mention of his name didn't immediately cloud the Amazonian queen's face. Good.

"Yes, yes, dear sister," Hippolyta answered with a light tone of voice, as if she's taking this task lightly – a fact which irked Penthesilea to no end.

Here she was, worrying about her sister for so long, and this was the treatment she'd get? Someone who's not even putting in serious effort to better the relationship between mother and daughter, and to improve upon what they experienced themselves with their own mother?

"I'll punch you one of these days…"

"Ah, please don't."


	32. Battling Body & Mind

**How's it going, everyone?! Back again with a faster-than-expected upload; glad you all liked the last chapter, judging from the amount of traffic I'm getting not just from this story, but throughout my bio as a whole. Not too many curious questions, too, which I assume is because I'm going quite a good job answering all of your wonderment with my ANs and in-story explanations. Let's get things started!  
**

**As always, I welcome discussions regarding the story.**

**The now-small mailbag is here!  
****AlternateReality: Achilles won't show up as a main or supporting character. I plan on having him on the fringes for now. Also, regarding Penthesilea, remember that in the Trojan War, she's already Queen of Amazon because of Hippolyta's death at the hands of Herakles. Now that that's changed in my story, of course the War's happenstance is tentative. I'll just have to let you wait and stew on that.  
superpierce: Well, it's kinda his job, isn't it? Or he'd be dead a long time ago...**

**Warning: This chapter contains M-rated scenes. Read (and possibly enjoy) at your own risk.**

* * *

Medea surprised herself by how much she'd changed over this past year – or perhaps in a slightly shorter amount of time than that. What's even more surprising was the changes she experienced and realized were… all mostly good things, with the very few in between being neutral.

No negatives. In life, this was as rare as a blue moon – not zero, because Selene once actually did that in response to one of Hephaestus's antics. In reality, the goddess was simply too late to intensify the moon's light after a particularly large volcanic explosion caused by the latter, refracting the usually silver light into a blue haze.

The unconfident young maiden from all those time ago was now a past memory, a dissipating shadow. Those few fumbles when executing Magecraft, cracks in the wall, were all improved to the point of invulnerability – she attributed this particular change to her experience with death, both on herself and her aunt Circe, because a magus couldn't be considered to have truly mastered their particular craft without walking side-by-side to it. The shy, daydreaming girl was now literally living her ideal life, with plenty of thrilling adventure and a loving family life, married to the man she idolized.

Case in point was how she's shaking her hips and bouncing up and down perfectly on top of Shirō's cock – no mean feat, given their respective physical size difference, as well as the stroke length her legs' and buttocks' had to go because of his girth. Animalistic moans escaped her lips, far more gruesome and raw than the times she touched herself innocently.

Thinking of the her from beck then, she thought her actions were cute when she had thought it to be a shameful action just to touch herself occasionally.

\- Squelch… Squelch… Squelch…

"Ah~ Ah-Ah-Ah~ Kuhah… Hah~ It… It's so… biiig…" Slurring heavily, she spoke with drool flying everywhere from the corners of her lips. "Ih won' go in… anymoohre~ "

At the very least, this time, she could fit him all inside herself, instead of sharing Medusa's frustrations of still having a good few inches of him outside of her pussy. The sensation of his firm and full balls bouncing off her own crotch was a relatively new experience, and one giving her a small sense of achievement, similar to how she mastered a new spell under Hecate's teachings.

And similarly to her teacher, her husband wasn't particularly talkative during their… _sessions_. And not just to her, either – Atalanta had spoken of the same thing privately.

He most often simply gazed at her with those dreamy eyes of his – another particular thing she loved him for, though others might disagree – and took in all of her reactions, physical and mental, and responded with the optimal amount of fore to produce the strongest stimulation. She was one of the first 'subjects' who could attest this process was working _wonderfully_, but the body-wrecking orgasms usually took more than a day to peter out, leaving her annoyingly useless for a long period of time.

"U… Ufw… Uu… Ah~ Ah-A-Ha~ " Having gotten somewhat used to it, she still couldn't hold in several sultry and moist moans from escaping her lips, as the movements of her hips began to feel heavier and heavier with the increasing spread of numbness across her lower body. "D-Dear… I-I-I… AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!"

A small tap around the circumference of her anus provided her with just the right amount of surprising stimulation to make her lose control of her bearings. Naturally, it made her entire body lose its strength, only burying Shirō's cock head into her womb even further, and overwhelming her with a second wave of orgasm even before the first one had passed its peak.

He held her limp upper body in her arms, kissing her eyes, nose, lips, and perhaps other unsavory places where juices she didn't want him to see her secreting too, and patted the back of her head lovingly to allow her to fully embrace the waves of pleasure without passing out.

Oh, they tried that one before, plenty of times, and while there's certainly temptations of images of her being fucked silly until her mind broke down, there's very little practical application afterwards, and they unceremoniously decided to hold off that level of sex until everything's settled down. It's even more graphic when she's a bystander to the act – seeing her new 'sisters' losing control over their exquisitely beautiful faces and turn into a howling beast, regardless of body size and experience, allowed her more circumspect over this decision.

From the haze of the climax, she felt a feminine body pressing up from behind her. Logically, this meant one of her fellow wives had just climbed over the two of them and laid flat against Medea's back – surely Atalanta, because of Medusa's recent miniature form.

The queen's hands reached over from behind, wedging their fingers in-between her squished breasts and Shirō's pectoral muscles, and began massaging both the flesh and the rock-hard tips, eliciting a moan which was soon covered by a wet kiss from the man.

"Even these became larger… What useless lumps of fat," she heard Atalanta mutter coldly from behind her, a drip of envy in her words, though she couldn't fathom what they were because of her current mental state. "You like them big too, do you not, my husband?"

He smiled through the kiss, and with Medea out of the count, he sat up and wrapped his longer arms around parts of Atalanta's back, pecking her nose with a kiss. "I love their owners, not necessarily their own appearances."

"Liar."

Despite her accusatory tone, she nuzzled cutely against him in a manner similar to Medusa's spoiled self, both herself in the past and the current her.

Because as Medusa's size reverted itself, due to her far thicker inhuman nature, Medea's more natural body went the other way, ripening deliciously into the adult form she saw herself from the Dream Cycles she shared with Shirō. It's rather annoying she's the only one who lacked any knowledge on what her final form would be, since Medusa could already transform into that anytime she wanted and Atalanta had matured fully.

However, discussing that right now wouldn't be productive, chiefly because the related party was half-unconscious, drooling from both her upper and lower lips.

\- Poke. Poke.

Medusa gingerly poked Medea's cheeks with her short, stubby finger, before giggling at the apparent unconscious state of the older girl.

Well, 'older' in relative of life experience. Due to living isolated in Sarpedon for so many centuries, her social interaction mostly consisted of verbal sparring with her late sisters, while Medea had been living and growing normally among a real, blood-related family. A halfway messed-up one, due to King Æëtes's poor decision-making, but a complete one nonetheless.

With Shirō's front lap now occupied by Atalanta's demanding form, the small but lithe Medusa climbed over his shoulders – her miniature size having reverted to only be around as tall as his seated form – and stole his lips from behind, earning her a good pinch on the hips from the green-haired girl, though it's done in jest. What _did_ grow was solely her hair, now clearly sweeping on the floor with her current height at such an excess it looked more like a violet modern wedding gown than prehensile, lethal appendages, able to be controlled to the smallest strands and sharper than any heroes' blades.

They all now knew their scents were overwhelmingly pleasurable to their husband – both physically and Thaumaturgically – and couldn't pass up on the opportunity to gain control for themselves, instead of turning into a pile of steaming, melted flesh under his caress and thrusts and everything else in between every time. Therefore, using their nubile and slim bodies, they coiled around him with every limb they could, while also deliberately overemphasizing the wet sounds from their saliva, lips, and pussies near his ears to enhance the sensory overload.

* * *

_The three of them stood side-by-side among the arid fields of Ancient Mesopotamia, where occasional forests and human settlements dotted the background. The air around them was clearly foreign – they could __**feel **__it – one steeped in Mystery even denser than their own era._

_It's nature at its very best – enchantingly calming, yet hiding a ferocious wilderness behind the sleepy façade, ready to take one's life when they're least prepared for it._

_In short, an environment where Atalanta felt most comfortable in, and one which brought back bad memories for Medusa. Medea, being the most neutral of the three, held the younger girl's hands tight to calm her down, though the latter had already had it well under control. _

_Because what arrested their attention wasn't the vista, or the weight of the universe itself pressing down on them – __**Foreigners!**__ – but the battle occurring across the clear, gold-and-purple-tinged sunset skies. _

_Flashes of alien steel, itself far faster than what they could comprehend, erupted alongside thunderous clashes, loud enough to make the two inhuman women wince in pain at their irritated ears, before Medea covered them with just the right amount of soundproofing spell to prevent damage. _

_She herself had chosen complete and total silence, to be able to focus on her other senses better and react faster with her spell, just in case. She perceived Magecraft differently than her fellow wives – and completely the opposite of her beloved husband – so this choice could only produce good things._

_Hopefully._

_Because at the speed and strength the combat above them was occurring, even at this distance, nothing was truly certain. And judging from the scale of shockwaves emanating through the atmosphere, along with the denser Mysteries propagating the energies instead of weakening them, there's a very good chance a clash happening about a mile from their location could've pulverized the hill they're spectating from._

_The three of them watched the fight with differing methods. Atalanta and Medusa had naturally keen eyesight – the former more so, the latter using Cybele's quirks of spatial visualization – while Medea both Reinforced her eyes and utilized a scrying spell, giving her two screens to watch the battle from more angles. _

_However, all of these weren't really necessary. _

_This __**was**__ a dream, after all._

_The first few times this had happened, both Atalanta and Medusa shrugged it off with surprising casualness, earning themselves an earful of speeches and theoretical lessons from Medea on how important and rare this event was. The magus, predictably, was ecstatic for many reasons – to get closer to her husband's heart and study what made him tick, along with the intellectual boons she'd get from analyzing the phenomenon itself._

_No human or demigod should have this ability, not even Morpheus's descendant. The power to inadvertently enter one's past, while perfectly preserving the observers, didn't exist in all but the most secretive legends. Said male god never confirmed nor denied he was capable of the same prowess, and not even Zeus could pressure him to answer. Other Divine Spirits who were said to be able to grant similar things were also similarly silent, meaning Dream Cycles held a mysterious power – enough for them to be tight-lipped about it in __**fear**__._

_However, given it had little to no other apparent functions beside giving one an insight into another's psyche – and with both in incapacitated conditions – Olympus's desire to understand and wield this power soon waned. _

_Therefore, the conclusion was simple. Shirō wasn't human. Or, at least, he had an inhuman part in him, one which allowed the advent of this phenomenon. _

_The three of them had sensed this quite a while ago, with Atalanta having the most concrete explanation residing inside her head. However, since their husband had never brought this up, they respectfully held their tongues and didn't demand any answers on this occurrence._

_So what if he wasn't human? He's a __**person**__ they loved – and that's enough._

_Additionally, since they could see his past – both dark and light, grim and happy – who could deny he could see __**theirs**__ too?_

_But he accepted them for what they were, even after they underwent many changes. Every strengths, every flaws, every annoyances, every temptations. _

_So they should do the same. _

_Before she knew it, her two audiences had already drifted off to sleep, despite the magical hourglass only displaying five minutes had passed._

_Ever since that time, she vowed to create the world's best megaphone just to wake these two up._

_Going back to the issue at hand, it wasn't as if they're now scared of the collateral damage coming their way. It's how they couldn't move, __**at all**__, because a Dream Cycle paralyzed all guests… to enjoy the show._

_Their husband's form and red hair flitted across their vision every so often, tangling with an all-gold being. While the latter's finer features alluded them from this distance, they did see what the female actually looked like in another Dream Cycle._

_And they envied her._

_For her looks. For her riches. For her charisma. For her __**power**__. _

_And for being Shirō's first._

_Warriors throughout the lands and ages all spoke of the level of intimacy sprouting in the midst of a heated combat. Through an exchange of wills, bodies, and tools, an inexplicable mental connection would suddenly spark and form a stable bridge, and at its basest form, would allow each combatant to gauge the other's intentions and read their moves ahead of time. Naturally, it went both ways, creating a stalemate of powerful hurricane often spoke of fondly in sagas and songs._

_Higher-level combatants would instead start to empathize with each other. They might not agree on many things, such as basic principles, morals, motives, and so on, but after the fight, any survivor would feel a sense of loss, because of the euphoria this mental bridge instilled upon them during the heightened sensory input in combat. Those more powerful and experienced could even feel the emotions radiating from a clash they're not a part in, giving them an expert's commentary on everything that's going on._

_The three of them certainly qualified for the last part. Even Medea, with her lack of actual combat experience, had the talent to quickly bridge the gap as soon as she was involved in one – literally stepping __**on and over**__ the line of [Death] would do that to someone._

_And what they felt was an emotion all too familiar to themselves._

_After all, they felt it every day, and craved it every waking moment, and dreamed of it in their sleep._

_Love._

_A twisted, different kind of love, but love nonetheless. It's clear their husband's relationship with this… queen was different than them, perhaps because of his immaturity at this time as well. However, it's a relief it's not significantly stronger than what they received all the time – if nothing else, this one felt __**primal**__, and theirs more refined._

_A petty point, but a good one to make nonetheless._

_Even __**they**__ had to keep up appearances and dignity._

_Then, the scene changed._

_Gone was the visceral wilderness and __**raw**__ scent in the air, replaced by a misty, cold surroundings and floral aroma. They could feel this world's construct was more sophisticated… and yet weaker, as a descendant was fated to be. Clearly, this was a far more modern era than the previous one, but also obviously in another location, culture, and among different people._

_A flash of blonde hair, a different shade than the powerful queen from before, caught their attention amidst the gloomy forest. In fact, it formed such an atmosphere that even Atalanta scrunched up her nose at the sight. Yes, she loved nature – and also this place, too – but the way nature itself contorted and shifted and grew was in complete disarray to everything she knew and had learned before._

_This reaction kept repeating itself even as she visited this scene several times, and even after Medea's insistence that this was great! Everything's interesting and unique!_

_Yeah, right._

_Her emotions were likely also feeling the somber tone encasing their environment, thicker than the lingering mist, because they're witnessing a funeral._

_Solemn, yes. But there was a distinct lack of emotional screams, cries, and unnecessarily large ham-ful oaths._

_Respect. Adoration. And also sadness, but just enough to prevent the ceremony from turning into a dramatic, rain-filled sob story._

_The blonde hair actually belonged to quite a few people, as it seemed this place birthed many children this way. Just like the other times they were here, though, Atalanta, Medusa, and Medea transfixed their gazes onto the one blonde occupying the elaborately crafted coffin, eyes closed and face serene._

'_**Just like when she's going to sleep,'**__ the three of them assumed. _

_However, despite the relative silence and lack of explanation, they did know one fact after being presented by this scene several times. _

_This woman was still alive._

_Unconscious. Comatose. But __**alive**__. And it didn't look like she entered this state forcibly, either – the worship and love apparent in the people around her answered that question._

_Especially the one now kneeling devoutly near the coffin… with the exact same face as its occupant, though slightly different body shape. _

_The latter was far more mature and… __**bountiful**__ than the former – much to Atalanta's annoyance – and quite a bit taller. However, comparing their beauties were futile precisely because they're so different, along with the powerful queen they saw previously. _

_They saw a familiar red mop standing to one side, folding his arms and closing his eyes coolly. The tree he's leaning on was some way to the rear, as the location was around a lake in the middle of an evergreen forest, enabling every single participant to be present in his field of vision._

_The very first thing he taught Atalanta as a hunter._

_Somehow, he looked equally out of place and part of the scenery, since they could feel his senses not leaving the kneeling blonde, clad in a red armor-dress reminiscent of a blooming flower._

_\- Srrt._

_With a gentle push, she moved the coffin off the shore and onto the surface of the water. Magically, just the slightest contact pulled it quickly into the lake's center, despite no wind or waves being present._

_Serenely, it sailed there and stopped, before it, along with the entire scenery, faded away in a gentle white light._

* * *

\- You have grown faster than the predicted model.

Given Medea had the most experience in Bounded Fields and their _interesting_ applications, she's the first one to calm the other two down, since Atalanta had been trying her hardest to summon Tauropolos – or the newly-processed Calydonian Boar Hide – and Medusa exerted similar effort to transform into her full form, despite the warnings she'd received from Shirō and Medea regarding the dangers of doing that so soon.

They were all standing underneath a gigantic ball of light, pulsating with _power_ unlike anything they'd ever dreamt of. Beyond Poseidon's all-encompassing threat, beyond Hecate's all-conquering power, and beyond whatever their husband or Herakles had every shown them. Around them, the walls – or lack thereof – were a mixture of white, silver, and grey of various shades, with floating triangular shards and prisms hypnotically cordoned off the room.

With outstretched arms in front of her fellow wives, Medea tried to spread her oversized robe to the sides in order to shield the two glaring women – or _girl_, in case of Medusa's current form – from the sphere's… 'eyes', no matter how futile it looked.

Hey, she's still a human, with all the reflexes and quick assumptions which came with it.

"This… is Shirō's patron deity. Stand down," she calmly said, though everyone present could clearly see her shoulders were trembling heavily. However, no sense of nervousness or fear could be felt from her; instead, it's clearly something else which was hauntingly familiar to the two behind her.

Excitement.

They distinctly remembered the various times when her eyes lit up in glee and her pointed ears twitched crazily. Those almost always involved either one of them – including Shirō – to be strapped into a makeshift bed and have Medea draw complicated ritual runes across the entire room… including on their own skin, and poke them with various tools. At that time, they could often detect her Od fluctuating wildly in accordance to her emotions – a cardinal sin in some practices, though Hecate never specifically scolded her for it – indicating a breach in her sanity.

Right. She's a magus, after all.

It's almost she's taking after her master, how her personalities could change at the snap of a finger. It was tame at first, during the initial periods of accepting her into their family, but as her inhibitions lessened and she herself settling down, it grew unchecked, primarily because of the insane amount of magical energy she's ingesting almost daily from Shirō's, Atalanta's, and Medusa's various bodily fluids.

Because, unlike them, her body was no different than a normal human being, instead of being Alaya's champion, a holy divine priestess, or a literal daughter of Athena.

From their position, they couldn't see the expression on Medea's face apart from her earlier tone. However, they were ready to bet their wedding bands and oaths she's pulling the _exact same face_.

Only this time, in front of a being far, _far_ more powerful than anything they'd ever had the pleasure (or the other one) of meeting. Or even seeing. Or hearing…

"Nihihihi…"

The two of them made eye contact, silently dreading. _'Oh, crap… She didn't just make that noise, did she?'_

Of course, that was just their minds playing with their senses.

Because Medea's doing something _far worse_.

She prodded Alaya with her magical senses, oblivious to the fact it knew everything which had transpired in the three ladies' minds.

\- Threat detected. Commencing counterattack…

""NO!""

It had to admit, having to feel _amusement_ on two separate occasions, so soon after the first one, was a novel sensation.

…as the sight of Atalanta and Medusa dope-slapping Medea behind her head and tackling her to the ground provided it.

Of course, there was no way it'd admit its words earlier was a joke.

Because Alaya did _not_ joke. It just _did_.

The two women breathed a sigh of relief, but soon paled once again as they felt Medea didn't even bother shifting her posture to ensure a softer landing. Or, more importantly, they could feel the radiant happiness not lessen in the slightest… as if she's already happy to analyze the floor, if not allowed the grand prize itself.

"Can I hit her already?" Medusa mumbled darkly, but with no intention of hiding her voice from anyone. "If she loses consciousness, then… maybe…"

\- Confirming location. This _is_ your consciousness.

Hearing that, Atalanta's ears twitched, before silently shaking her head at the younger girl.

At the same time, they eventually removed their bodies from Medea's back, and the magus stood back up instantly like nothing ever happened.

"Nihihihi…"

This time, that laugh certainly wasn't a _figment_ of their imagination.

"Can I build a Temple here?"

\- Negative.

"Spoilsport," Medea snorted, though this time already conjuring her long staff, holding it diagonally across her back. "Just wait until Shirō gets here! I'll nag him for it!"

"I don't think that's how it works…" Medusa shot back sullenly, using a rare deadpan tone.

Nodding, Atalanta placed one hand on Medea's shoulder, intent on keeping her in line. "Indeed. You must not be callous."

While anyone who knew Atalanta superficially would retort with how ironic her words were just now, she _had _changed from the rude lioness in the past. Just… not _too much_. Therefore, she at least had the caché to say these things.

Given that, Medusa immediately shifted to the front, trying not to project any more animosity in her glare than necessary.

She could feel it. Cybele was gone. Tauropolos was gone. She had no doubt Medea's Magecraft wouldn't work here, either.

Just like how they all were in the past: powerless.

Medea was too lost in her own world to realize the irony, while Atalanta was busy stretching out whatever non-magical senses still functioning to pre-empt any attacks on them. Therefore, it fell on her to attempt the first proper steps of negotiation.

Because immediately probing someone of their deepest secrets with brute-force Magecraft _wasn't_ a proper step.

"Did you… summon us here? May we ask for the reason why?" Medusa continued Medea's first line of thought, before the surrounding completely captivated her. "Did we do anything to be rewarded? Or punished? Or… did something happened to Shirō?"

\- Two out of three, correct.

She narrowed her eyes, because she's certain one of the things she guessed correct had a 50-50 chance of being the 'punished' option.

There's no time to shudder in fear, however, as the glowing sphere in front of her talked once again in its monotonous tone.

\- Intrusion detected.

"Who-?!"

"I think this is too early for them, Alaya," her husband's casual voice answered from behind them, causing the three of them to beam up instantly and move closer to him.

Just like dealing with Olympians, it's best to snuggle up to any single individual a deity preferred or held in high esteem. It greatly reduced the chance of being fatally smote, for one, because most deities' single-target attacks were still wide enough to engulf buildings. Therefore, because events ending in their wrath usually happened far too quickly for them to prepare their champions with the proper blessing, friendly fire was certainly possible.

Thus, the silent public secret of clustering around those champions, so the latter could be used as a pseudo-meatshield.

\- Thus, task relegation?

"Yes. Let me talk to them first," he said while frowning. "While I know you mean well, you _are_ a master in creating misunderstandings."

\- Pot → Kettle Black

"Oh, shut up, you."

* * *

"I sincerely apologize for showcasing such an embarrassing side of mine…" Medea weakly whispered, her face completely crimson and visible through the thin curtain of her hair. "H-Husband… U-Uuu…"

Her fellow wives were snickering to one side, eager to take advantage of the rare situation and bully the magus.

Usually, with her methodical and stable common sense – when compared to Atalanta and Medusa – she's always on the scolding end, typically backing Shirō with facts and barbs whenever all of them had an argument. Not that it ever debased into something ugly – he made sure of that – but the other two were annoyed for being at the losing end most of the time.

However, their attempt was prematurely killed by a soft hug from Shirō, who's… shivering?

"I'm glad you're alright."

Even though his tone was as calm and comforting as ever… they'd just realized he was _afraid_ of their condition.

"I was worried."

Now, their intention of bullying Medusa had completely evaporated. Instead, they huddled together close to his shoulders, and draped another layer of bodies on top of the now-sweating Medea – for various reasons.

One, of course it's going to be stuffy and hot underneath the hugs of three people, two of which were physically larger than her in size – though she's catching up to Atalanta. Two, Medusa's body warmth was higher than the average person in this size. Three… well, the outburst of emotions, which she long thought was frowned upon as a magus under Hecate, was making its way to overcome her embarrassment, causing tears to well up in the corners of her eyes.

To feel the love her family was giving her, physically, mentally, and spiritually, was the greatest pleasure in the world for her.

"No… I'm sure it… doesn't intent to hurt us…" Medea softly replied, patting his wide back lightly.

"How about unintentional power outburst? Have you thought about that?" Shirō interjected, causing her to twitch.

Medusa did, too, but for a different reason.

He sighed, releasing his grip on her body. "Alaya meant well, and it always took care of all of you. However, a human being's soul wasn't supposed to be able to survive in its immediate vicinity without the help of _that room_, and even then it's close to 50-50. Without me there…"

His brooding face was forcefully turned to one side by Medusa's superhuman strength, before she rocked her small head forwards violently to headbutt him.

\- BANG!

"O-Ow…" The impact left her entire body to tremble, as per how it should be when a normal skull met a steel wall.

However, her gesture was appreciated, as shown by a small smile finally emerging from his face. "Thank you, my dear wife."

"E-Ehehehe…" The small girl could only sway in happiness, though her unsteady footing was more from the attempted cooldown headbutt than her giddiness.

Atalanta adeptly caught her, before chiding Shirō. "See for yourself what you have done to us delicate ladies, my husband. Do take responsibility and explain."

"I will," he resolutely said, before adding, "Medea, could you teleport us back home?"

Their current location was an unknown point near Arcadia Castle, having been summoned forcibly by Alaya from various geographical points when they're doing their own tasks. How Shirō brute-forced his way into _that room_ was still a mystery to the magus, though she hoped he'd explain things far clearer than before to quell all of her worries.

He's worried. She's worried. Atalanta's worried. Medusa's worried.

Really, what kind of family was this, having to worry about each other like they're children?

With a nod and a flash of light, the four of them returned to their royal chamber in Arcadia at the peak of day.

* * *

Medusa is taking her customary position deep inside my lap, sitting on my crotch like it's her throne. Indeed, her recent reversion in size has made her even clingier than usual, perhaps reaching close to Atalnata's younger years, though this time armed with the mature knowledge of her past growth.

As a result, her tiny, bony butt is gently wrapping itself around my hardening member, despite the layers of cloth between us.

Usually, such subtle movements won't be noticed by any bystander even when they're paying attention. However, my other two wives clearly aren't normal people, and they narrow their eyes at almost the same time and launch themselves forward to wrap their bodies by my side.

How can I start my storytelling at this position? Contrary to popular belief, aside from the overwhelmingly sensual scent coming off the three of them, being draped with actual female human beings, no matter how soft their bodies, will end up with sharp joints and taut tendons poking and strangling my limbs at odd places, severely hampering any blood flow apart from the one going to my cock.

"Can I start now?" I interrupt the sudden glaring contest, to which the three of them instantly changed expressions into all smiles and loving gazes towards me, with the myriad levels of maturity their bodies have gone through.

Truly, women are terrifying creatures.

Not that they haven't done this countless times before, and I did the same in return. These exchanges have become so frequent I'm beginning to suspect this is just a banter – a way to bond with each other and myself – and none of them is taking things too seriously.

Like puppies eager to hog their master's attention to themselves, so too they visibly compete every single time, though it's nothing serious.

Just like soldiers, having gone through blood and sweat under duress with each other have forged an unbreakable bond among them, one even a serious fight won't be able to test, much less crack. Once, again, I don't see the point of displaying antagonism towards each other in front of me if they love each other like sisters behind me.

I attribute that to them being… _themselves_, really. Can't say much more.

Shaking my head at their antics – the mischievous gleam in their eyes confirming my earlier thoughts – I begin, "Like you said at the beginning, Alaya is my patron deity. And yes, before you asked, I arrived early as soon as I feel the three of you were taken into that room, but I had to go through time-consuming process to reach you."

"Are you going on a guilt-trip again? Because I'm going to slap you in place of Medusa's forehead!" Medea exclaims heatedly, though I only find her expression incredibly cute.

Enough for a surprise kiss on the lips, eliciting a yelp from her.

"I'll go on a guilt-trip whenever I want, woman," I darkly reply, though from Medusa's giggles, it's apparent none of them buys my performance. "But, in a way, I wanted to reach all of you even an instant earlier because of the dangers I mentioned previously."

"Was it so terrible? None of us have paid a visit to Olympus yet, but I heard 'tis not as intense as you described in _that room_," Atalanta asks.

Pointedly, I stare at the three of them.

"I am the 10th generation. The previous nine… all didn't make it because of _that room's_ procedure."

The three of them gasp with mouth agape.

However, I quickly quell their worries with a soft rub on their three heads. Enjoying the different textures and scents for several seconds – especially the soft fur near Atalanta's beast ears – I continue, "Before you imagine something worse, it's not nearly as horrendous at it sounds. They're merely incompatible, that's all, and they're all powerful – so they're still alive after all this time in some form or the other. Well, apart from #02, but that's a special case."

"Wait wait wait wait wait! Don't just dismiss things as being 'incompatible'! Surely that meant they're all eliminated and recycled into something else, right?! E-Even you must be in great pain to s-succeed!" Medea cut in, her face contorting into a genuine worry. "Don't be a hypocrite to us and dismiss your pain! Didn't we swear an oath to indulge in each other's pain?!"

"Yes, yes, dear, I understand," I try to placate her, though it's clear the other two are now quite agitated by her words, despite not understanding the technical terms fully. "It did hurt quite a bit, but the process wasn't torture – it's similar to how steel is forged. From the outside, it looks horrendous, but it's reforming its existence into something stronger and more beautiful each time."

"…you left out the part where you felt better some way through the process. That… didn't happen, did it?"

I silently curse Hecate under my breath for producing such a sharp and brilliant student.

Shaking my head, I relent, "No. Only the thought of gaining the strength necessary to save those important to me allowed me to hold on to my soul, sanity, and eventually regain my full body. The others before me… were perhaps more powerful and gifted, but their _want_ was less – or so I was told by Alaya."

"And is it correct?" Medusa perks up after being silent for some time, her crown nuzzling my chin. "Or have you discovered some mistruths from its words?"

"None whatsoever. That's why I trust it much more than I do to your parents and patrons."

"So… it's like your own mother?" Medusa innocently asks, Cybele's mature form temporarily manifesting in an instant flash. "Why do you sound so… unenthusiastic when speaking of it?"

I chuckle. "When did you learn such a big word behind my back? Hm?"

"Muu… I'm not a kid forever!" She pouts, her tiny fists pounding my leg playfully.

While before, when she first departed Sarpedon, not even her serious punch could make me feel anything, her current condensed strength could easily shatter my leg if she puts her mind into it. Her previous headbutt was instinctual and rash, done with a playful intention, and that's why she's the one who's hurt. Therefore, she is far more careful this time.

\- Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Your Majesty, there's-"

The maid's words die off quickly under Atalanta's murderous glare, still from her huddled position close to me, before she squeaks and runs off while crying in fear.

"You should be more relaxed around them, my dear wife," I softly chide, though she harrumphed in return.

"Then they, too, should improve themselves to read the mood better. I have not received any satisfactory answer from you. Before that, no one may interrupt!" She declares heartily, flaring out her royal authority like the queens I know so well from my previous deployment. "Therefore, speak, you heathen, or feel my wrath!"

\- Nom.

Now, it's Medea's turn to laugh at the sight of Medusa nibbling on Atalanta's outstretched finger, extended by her ridiculously forceful stance.

Her figure will be more imposing if her ears and tail aren't twitching playfully, surely.

"Y-You…!" She jumps at the nibble. "Do not interrupt my pose! Shaming me in front of Shirō; h-how dare you!"

"Alright, alright, come here," I beckon with my palm upturned.

Atalanta stiffens at the failure of her joke attempt shyly, before diving into her previous spot on the bed, wrapped around my arm.

"To continue from my earlier explanation, it's… complicated. Alaya is something… you can call as the one who holds Authority over the concept of [Human]. While I agree with its end goals – the salvation of all humanity – I disagree with it on some of its methods."

"What are they?" Ever the curious one, Medea quickly answers her own question. "Don't tell me… it's forcing you to kill innocents?!"

"Not me, but the group before me. They're now… a failed project, and was scrapped." I look into her eyes seriously. "And yes, this time, they… really were gone. Forever."

"Ah…"

"…can you explain in more detail? I'm confused…" Medusa gingerly requests.

"Why don't you explain your understanding first, Medea? I'll correct things as you go on," I offer, to which she nods.

"The one who holds dominion over [Human] have long had a task force assigned to it, born in a similar manner to you, Medusa. The 'Counter Force' of [Human], as they're called, is gathered from the collective consciousness of humanity who wishes for their survival and prosperity, though primarily the former," the magus slowly explains to her fellow wives.

Seeing that now, with the presence of their husband, none of them dares to sleep off during her rants, she picks up the pace. "Within it is an elite group known as 'Counter Guardians'. They take on humanoid forms, holding condensed power to combat specific threats, instead of pressuring a phenomenon generally like the World's own Counter Force'. And then… they destroy themselves, taking out any remaining threats with them like suicide bombers."

"That's… awful…" Medusa whispers, her eyes flickering between my face and Medea's.

"That should be Shirō's group's predecessors, no?" Atalanta quips, to which the magus nods.

"Glad to see you haven't dozed off, dear sister."

\- Pinch…

"Atalanta."

"Apologies. 'Tis an ingrained instinct."

Medea tearfully glares at the Arcadian queen while holding her reddening side, having been pinched painfully for an instant earlier.

"However, that… should be all, no? I haven't heard this 'Alaya' creating a newer force," Medea finished, before she suddenly remembers something and adds, "Oh, and for the two of you, this entity should be deeply connected to the Akashic Records, where everything exists and goes extinct at the same time."

"The one place you wish to dearly study? That one?" Medusa asks.

"Yes. Which means…" Medea suddenly jumps up and assumes the same position as Atalanta earlier, shouting, "T-The gateway to it has been i-in front of me all this time!"

"Precisely. Though I don't have the authority to give you access, Medea," I complete her sentence. "Perhaps you can study me in turn?"

For a moment, the magus in her leaps up at the offered chance… before the girl in her clicks with my innuendo, blushing profusely as a result. "A-Ah… t-then… some private sessions…?"

_That_ is immediately shot down by my other two wives, both exclaiming at the same time, "ABSOLUTELY NOT!"


	33. Meleager

**Hi, there! Here's one of the chapters fully focused on the perspective of another character, with none of the usual protagonists making an appearance. The format of this one means it spans over several years alongside the previous chapters, and naturally is not up-to-date with the last one. You can also categorize this as a spin-off, though the following chapter after this should be the next part of Perseus & Andromeda's adventures - so maybe you guys can call that the same, too.  
**

**Not gonna' speak too long in this AN - remember, review, follow, and favorite!**

**Some mails:  
****Anon A: I've never been thanked for giving someone a lifelong, debilitating illness... so, thanks? Ah, are you typing from a phone, given the amount of typos in this review? In any case, it's a planned and decently-applied step in Alaya's character development, so I'm happy you liked it.**  
**PanzerJ: Well, what's next is this chapter, which is a bit of a fleshing-out of a side character...  
Questoris: Yes, that's the implication I've been going with since HV-S01: RKR.  
AvidGamer: ****Thank you for the review in any case. I realized this might be the case for other people, but you're actually the first one to provide me with a constructive criticism at this level. Hopefully you can still enjoy my other works, either the already-written one (which I consider inferior to HV-S02: QGF anyway) or in the near future (which hopefully is better).  
samuelcaldeira76: Yeah, it's obviously different than the original myth. Additionally, TYPE-MOON's origins for the Olympians and their descendants are sketchy anyways, so I'm taking advantage on that. Regardless, this is fanfiction. ****For the explanation, here's a summary from the latter chapters: The Gorgon sisters were born from the prayers, wishes, and dreams of humanity. I assigned Athena to be the one to collate, manage, and eventually 'birth' them out like how a programmer would to an app. That's where the 'mother & daughter' terminology comes from.  
AlternateReality: It's a mix of various things: (1) The knowledge Perseus isn't particularly a good person in his young age. (2) The fact he shirked his responsibility to gather more information regarding his target. Remember, an adventurer is a proper job with responsibilities in this story. (3) SHIROU isn't perfect, as much as he'd like himself to be. I think there's some subtle indications I've put into the earlier chapters. Were they too subtle?**

* * *

"_The fire fades… and you, Unkindled, will rise.  
"Nameless, accursed… unfit to even be cinder.  
"And so it is, that ash seeketh embers."_

Since he was small, these three lines always accompanied every second of his life. Every breath, every step, every action he took was burdened by these… _curses_, to be frank.

Many assumed receiving attention from the Μοῖραι – the Sisters of Fate – was a glorious calling. That one would become great, because why would the three siblings waste time and energy especially foretelling the fortune of an individual? When not even kings and monarchs were graced by their presence, any peasant receiving an oracle straight from these women should be grateful, no matter what the contents of it was.

After all, in their puny and irrelevant life, how precious could a spark of excitement be?

_Very_. That's the answer.

But Meleager disagreed. Perhaps just like most other children who're too scared to say that outright… thus, he's the same.

"_He will live only as long as this brand remains unconsumed,"_ Atropos said long ago, when she arrived at the Calydon's royal chambers and declared as she laid eyes on the brand burning at the family hearth.

Unlike her two sisters, who sung him great prophecies, the youngest sister always held the Authority of [Death] – a thing she shared with her compatriot Thanatos; though in what manners, no one knew exactly. Therefore, her presence would always mark the decline and eventual demise of any entity, either individuals or as a whole group. Knowing this, Meleager's mother, Althaea leapt out of bed and grabbed the still-burning piece with _her bare hands_ and buried it in a secret location in the palace, so it should never be touched by another tongue of heat ever.

When he was first told this story, it wasn't fear which consumed him, as did most powerful men in Greece. Instead, overflowing adoration and love of his mother came forth, giving birth to the determination of making her the happiest women in the world, served by the greatest son in existence.

Oh, how young lips were often quick to boast, but late to regret.

Regardless, it's not boasting when he considered himself to be the most beloved of all of his siblings, no matter their achievements. Since he was small, his mother pampered him as if he's the actual son of Ares – which wasn't technically wrong, because the God of [War]'s spirit inhabited his father the night of his consummation. While he never let this got to his head, his siblings became distant to him, though their relationships remained civil throughout their childhood.

As they grew up, there was no place in Calydon's royal court for this many princes and princess; thus, they broke up and turned professional, utilizing some measure of their background to lay the foundation of their new occupations.

He himself became an adventurer, after it's clear only Thoas, his brother, was favored for the throne. Not that he minded what his father thought – it's his mother who occupied the central position in his brain.

* * *

Like many, he began at the Adventurers' Guild from the bottom.

It's one of the organizations in Greece where… well, plainly, they didn't care for anyone's background and bullshit. Even royalties like him had to start from where their abilities were evaluated, and not their heritage.

He was granted the D-Rank after his induction exam, allowing him to take on requests he felt fit with his talents more. However, what the Guild did allow anyone to use their own advantages was… _money_. Plain and simple. If an E-Ranker decided to use their sizeable family inheritance to buy a set of armor more suitable for an A-Ranker to use, then it's their right to do so – so long as the money was legitimately acquired without the need of recompense.

For Meleager, it was his position instead. He went immediately for the royal armory and took out a set of nameless shining armor he had eyes on for a long time. It's an anonymous Mystic Code, being so simply because the armorer died before he could properly name the entire thing. What he did finish was the enchantments – basically the whole armor – and thus it's very functional. Its unpopularity stemmed from the need of its wearer to train in this armor, which despite its enchantments wasn't particularly mobile or light.

Greek soldiers preferred partial armors for ease of use. After all, what's the need to cover one's entire body when potions and Reinforcement Magecraft were aplenty? All they had to do was cover the vital parts and concentrate on agility and outright speed, because even without Thaumaturgy, the adrenaline flowing in their body during combat was generally enough to allow them to function well after receiving sizeable wounds.

However, Meleager's mother was so worried of her son's well-being that she insisted on him practicing with this full set of armor, which had various curse enchantments on it to lessen the prophecy made by Atropos. Oh, she had no illusions it could completely nullify the youngest Sister of Fate's words – very, very little could – but, at the very least, it'd be able to buy her time to safeguard the burning timber linked to Meleager's life and put out anything consuming it, just like the day he was born.

Therefore, this was the final gift his mother could've arranged for him. Despite having her husband's favor, she knew he had to spread his attention equally among his wives and children, and couldn't tyrannically rob the treasury just to protect her son.

Calydon was a small kingdom, famed for the domesticated wild boars it exported to other city-states. Prized for its rich marbled meat and sturdy bones, they're often requested to become the centerpieces of banquets or prime divine sacrificial objects. Naturally, to rear such high-quality produce, Calydon's agricultural department was also top notch, though it couldn't compete with larger producers in terms of volume. Therefore, it mostly focused its natural resources on self-sustenance, with their boars being the main export item, among a few others.

Their current king, Oeneus, was an expert vintner, whose wine creations were rumored to have been taught by Dionysius himself. Unfortunately, due to Calydon's small size, there's no land could be spared for a large-scale wine production, numerous enough to sell to other city-states – therefore, his concoctions were only used in private gatherings and state tributes, among others.

Meleager wasn't feeling the family business. Simple as that. Therefore, he became an adventurer, despite her mother's wishes.

She feared people he offended would be able to catch wind of Atropos's prophecy and harmed him. He simply retorted of how those people would only increase in size if he took on the mantle of prince. At the very least, as an adventurer, he could pick and choose who he dared to offend, instead of having to worry and look over his shoulders every day for any assailants who he might not have offended personally.

Let his brothers and sisters wield that responsibility. He'd become his own man and take care of his mother through his own way, no matter how hypocritical it might've looked to outsiders.

However, never once did Atropos's words left his mind. If any, it burdened him even more as he grew up.

What would become of his mother if he perished? There were already rumors spreading she's the reason the Μοῖραι declared his fate to be such, and true or not, it lowered her mother's standings among her fellow wives and mistresses. While Meleager admired his father for never falling for this accusation and treated them all the same, the worry gnawed on him the more he understood politics – and the backstabbing which always came with it.

His father might not take any action regarding this matter. It didn't mean others wouldn't.

Additionally, what complicated matters more was… He fell in love.

* * *

Beauty was objective. What a man or woman think of one another was completely up to them.

Someone who's hailed as a 'peerless beauty' – male or female – would always garner controversy, with the most casual admirers comparing them with someone else they preferred. There was no objectivity to it, as even the most heartless beings would judge other based on differing standards, because no one individual developed the same manner with each other.

For Meleager, this was Atalanta.

They registered with the Adventurers' Guild on the same day, standing in line for the same receptionist, himself behind her.

He liked to romanticize how the Μοῖραι had blessed him that day, as much as they cursed him on the day he was born. Perhaps it was only fantasy, but he distinctly remembered how she smelled of a cacophony of forest creatures, both flora and fauna, walking along with a predatory stance – ready to fight at every opportunity like a ferocious beast.

At that time, he wasn't able to even see her face, yet he'd decided in his heart _this was the one_.

That day, he completely forgot about the first rule his mother had warned him about when he set off to work as an adventurer: Don't fall in love easily.

Despite his now-strained relationship with the royal palace, he was still a prince, after all. Also, as his siblings matured, their relationship did mend somewhat, as they now periodically met up and had fun together – an idea cast as foolish a few years ago. They're now part of the workforce anyway; no need to play the royal politics game anymore, because doing so would just hinder each of their futures. Of course, eventually, all of them would settle down and have a family…

…but certainly not on _the very first day _they left the royal palace.

And that's exactly what he'd done.

He regretted none of it.

They were young, he and Atalanta. After acquiring his armor, he approached her to work as a party, and to his glee, she gruffly accepted. Even her rough manner of speaking and violent mood swings were seen as 'character', because in his eyes, she had no flaw.

Perfect, in every way.

"_I hail from the forest,"_ she claimed in one of their first conversations as a team.

He wished he could etch those bewitching words on his back forever.

His current self would view the 'him' at the time to be disgustingly corny, stupidly love-struck and embarrassing… before having the desire to do the exact same thing.

How times changed people… and sometimes, it didn't. Utter failure.

Even until now… when she already belonged to someone else.

* * *

Those precious first few months were paradise to him.

They both received a similar evaluation during their entrance exams to the Guild, and occasionally took on higher-levelled quests from the bulletin board. Because they're viewed as talented individuals, the Guild didn't raise too much of a fuss unless they went over their heads and took on B- or A-Ranked tasks, which was clearly not meant for rookies.

Even the current S-Rankers didn't do that, so what chance would they have?

Calydon wasn't flooded in wealth, and thus its royalty, too, had experience in working in rough conditions, so the types of duties weren't too surprising for Meleager. However, the intensity was naturally much more than the ones his parents and retainers allowed him to do, because now they're actually responsible for other people's livelihoods. There's no chance to mess up – disregarding the fact no one would be there to over his mistakes – because there were chances for innocents to get hurt or die.

What surprised him was certainly how capable Atalanta was.

He tried his best to avoid his personal views clouding his judgement, regarding genders, but he knew no woman as powerful as the huntress was. Those he saw always had a squeamish face whenever the issue of corpses or trash was discussed, and a frightened shiver if he spoke to them about things pertaining to violence: wars, duels, beast infestations, and so on.

She didn't care much for those things, saying, _"If you have time to be surprised, put those hands to work instead!"_

Originally, he attributed this attitude towards her upbringing, sparse as he knew of it from her succinct explanations. Compared to his palatial childhood, certainly, hearing a young girl was living all by herself in the wild forests earned his admiration, for he realized he'd never be able to stand experiencing the same livelihood.

If his love-muddled brain was working at that time, he would've realized it's borderline impossible for an actual young woman to have such a refined beauty – though that's objectively relative – especially one who proclaimed to have been a professional hunter. Usually, no matter how natural one's attractiveness was, environment would've taken its heavy toll, such as uneven tanning of the skin, infected small scratches becoming permanent scars, roughening and thickening of soft tissues, cracked lips or split hairs, etc.

Of course, his mind simply rationalized this to how special and divine this woman was. A beauty untouched by both nature and nurture? Surely, she's one of a kind!

Though he berated himself for being disrespectful, he sneakily took glances to her rear and chest, however slim they were, whenever they shook in front of him. Her active movements meant her guard was occasionally low – or she simply didn't care – meaning a feast to his eyes.

Or, perhaps… even better – despite her callous demeanor, was she secretly seducing him? Didn't it meant she liked him too?

Watching her stalking a prey during one of their quests – one to hunt down errant goblins – he let this thought permeate his mind, though he's careful not to let his delusions overwhelmed his entirety. It's something forbidden to assume, and a must to physically confirm – and it's certainly not something one should think about during work.

No matter how weak goblins were, there's nothing such as being too careful.

As always, though, he didn't even have the chance to show off in front of her, because every goblin's head in view suddenly evaporated in fireworks of blood by every strum of her great bow.

Normally, the less intelligent a being was, the universe would compensate them with greater senses. Goblins were no exception, with sensitivity far beyond those of a normal human. However, being picked off from 5 miles away certainly wasn't part of the universe's design, and thus they were soon exterminated before Meleager and several others could even cross half-distance from their scouting base. All that's left to do was clean-up and gathering the necessary items, as well as on-scene therapy for those directly involved with the antagonists.

The others in their party was unhappy. Despite Guild rules being mostly fair in regards of monetary rewards, her kills quickly overwhelmed their own – and, as a result, her reputation, too. When they confronted her about this, disregarding Meleager's love-struck defense, she merely stated, _"Then you all should just get stronger than me."_

Arrogant? Cold? Yes… but he didn't care.

Party members came and went, mostly turned off by her attitude. However, only he stood by her side through various quests and rank-up exams, right up until they reached B-Rank.

Only then did he realize how little worth he was in her eyes.

* * *

Ever since Atropos uttered those words, he was often visited by a figure in his sleep.

At first, there was no other form of communication between the two of them other than a visual one. He couldn't speak, hear, touch, or even move in that space… and neither could the other figure. What he could make of was sparse at the beginning, far worse than seeing through fog, because all there had been was the sensation of _someone there_. Gradually, after a long period of time, the image became clearer, though Meleager was no closer to initiating the first conversation between the two.

He wasn't even sure _he_ was apparent to the other person.

However, close to his coming-of-age party, shortly before he was to leave the royal palace, the other figure finally made themselves very clear. Or, as he'd explained before, _he_ had made himself known to the other person.

They were tall. Around Herakles's height – or what Meleager had heard of from stories of the S-Ranker – but very lean, enough to appreciate the craftsmanship of the full-body armor they're wearing. Androgynous, but certainly _dangerous_, as attested by the smoldering embers constantly shifting around and surrounding its entire form.

The metallic figure was shabby… yet also majestic at the same time, as if the marks and defects of the armor were war trophies, gained after a long and arduous struggle, and having attained peace for those they cared about. There's no doubt the latter's impression on it was what Meleager was feeling right now: awe, gratitude, worship…

It's only then he snapped out of it and lightly freaked out.

He was seeing a _god_.

Or god_dess_ – it's a figure of speech.

However, nothing ever came out of it. The next few appearances were the same – of him staring at the powerful figure, and it not doing anything in particular. They're not even obviously aware Meleager was there, despite the stories telling him this manifestation should've been a two-way street.

Did he had a precognitive ability he didn't know about? To dream of things completely incognito from the deities themselves?

Yeah, right.

It's likely someone was playing with him, which wasn't a pleasing thought. Still, he could count himself fortunate – once he's awake – nothing negative ever came out of it. There were plenty of examples when visions like this easily drove mortals crazy with knowledge… _literally_, to the point of self-harm or, worse, harming others.

From this, he could assume this phenomenon was accidental, likely a passive effect of something bigger going on.

Naturally, he kept this to himself. It's easy to do so, since it's not a nightmare making him wake up screaming and trashing like most others. Not even cold sweat was present – as he felt before, this deity should've been benevolent, inspiring confidence in him the more time they 'spent together'. He didn't even mention this to Atalanta, who at this point knew more about him than she would've liked or cared about.

Not that he knew of her feelings, but it's the imagination which counted.

Also unknown to him was he was _this_ close to having his head sniped at various unguarded moments, courtesy of the girl he's so obsessed with.

Therefore, those first few moments as an adventurer was filled with him living inside his own head, with his body following suit.

To him, it's another proof this deity was protecting him, somehow, after he recomposed himself when he got older. To survive those perilous times with nary a scratch, and with very little recollection of what he'd done, must be divine intervention!

That full suit of armor – coincidentally, the same choice he made, which made him happy – was different than any of the descriptions regarding Greece's pantheon deities, both present and past. This, too, excited him, for the chance of learning something new from another culture… and possibly gain strength not limited to the Olympians' meddling.

What would he use that on, if that's real?

He heard Atalanta was Artemis's most prized priestess, and had taken a vow of celibacy as a result. Perhaps, with this being's help – if he could get it, and that's a _big_ if – he could persuade the Goddess of [Hunt] to betroth Atalanta to him?

Big, fanciful thought, that one. But divine intervention was precisely the cure it needed.

* * *

The rumor came out of nowhere.

Most rookie adventurers had their internal mentors from the Guild. This could range from a professional appointed by it to supervise a large group of people, to personal connections with veterans – either built before or after they joined the Guild. For example, Meleager received the former, while some of his party members had the latter. As the 'forsaken' prince of Calydon, he didn't have friendships with influential people in the right places, and had to rely on the kindness of the Guild – and random luck – to get by.

What those seniors handled most often was the mentality of adventurers, who had to be incredibly morally balanced and tough. They're not paid mercenaries without conscience, ready to do literally _everything_ for a piece of gold, but neither were they charitable people who were willing to sacrifice it all for no reward whatsoever. Aside from this, there were plenty who weren't used to the physical exertion necessary to become an adventurer, despite plenty of preparations, so these helpers assisted them during their nascent period.

Atalanta had _Jason of Iolchos_. An A-Ranker.

As soon as that news circulated among his peers, questions were instantly raised. Was she his student? His relative? Or… his mistress?

No matter how unlikely the latest option was, due to the _other_ rumor concerning her pact with Artemis, either one of the three – or even other explanations – had a good chance to be correct. Or even _all_ of them.

Still, his mind always told him, "It's just a rumor!"

Thus, the suspicions got submerged deep in his subconscious, all because he truly wished them all to be wrong.

Even if the two didn't have a romantic relationship right now, what were the chances of it not happening in the future? Disregarding appearances, any A-Ranker was highly sought-after by the opposite sex – and even several members of the same one – due to the appeal of fame and fortune. People might deny it and speak out idealistic things, but deep down, those attributes held great sway in their hearts, whether they'd admit it or not.

And Jason wasn't exactly ugly, either.

Unbeknownst to him, this was a sentiment shared by most people for… most other people in this era. Due to higher Conceptual Weight, everyone right now would appear more attractive – subjectively, of course – to those in the modern age. It might not even be their physical appearance, but more regarding the intangibles: the 'aura', 'feel', 'sense', and so on. This attraction of course could be positive or negative, with Meleager's own fears of going mad with knowledge of something from a previous era being a good example of the latter, bordering on fanaticism and zealotry.

Meleager felt he's above average in terms of looks. How could he not? No matter how one sliced it, selective breeding and 'natural' selection would always pair the best of an area together to create a better offspring. This was especially the case with rulers, who often had the pick of several people of the other sex to procreate with – those they found to be appealing to their subjective eyes. Thus, those born from royalty were usually better-looking and -bred than those not, though there's always exceptions. This didn't necessary show on shallow physical looks, and like the aforementioned case, royalties had certain 'intangibles' which genuinely emotionally attracted those of the opposite sex.

And this wasn't even mentioning riches. Factoring that in, there's no wonder those who had troubles in life would gladly surrender themselves to royalty just to have a comfortable life. A scene where they wouldn't starve, die of heat and cold, while occasionally accompanied by an attractive individual? How could no one dislike that?

However, when compared to Jason… what advantages did he have?

Looks… were subjective. Of course he'd feel confident of himself, but was he confident Atalanta felt the same way? Both of them had shunned off their royal inheritance, but even without this act, Iolchos was more powerful than Calydon anyway – and this factor might've been a negative stigma Jason had to shoulder heroically every day, considering his relationship with Pelias. Riches? Personally, the redhead had amassed so much he was considered his own force in Greece through his adventures, to the point not even the Guild dared to touch him on anything borderline unscrupulous he did.

What could he do if Atalanta slipped away from his hands?

He… would be left with _nothing_.

No titles. No fame. No riches. No nobility. He'd abandoned them all to reach this point – for good cause at the time – and yet… he wouldn't be rewarded with _anything_?! At all?

* * *

Over the years, Atalanta grew more distant, giving more credence to the rumors.

What dealt the final blow was the scene he witnessed accidentally, when Jason returned from an expedition to Sarpedon recently. Atalanta was there, waiting eagerly in the port like an expectant wife, before promptly throwing herself into the S-Ranker's embrace.

Meanwhile, Meleager was organizing some work at the port, and viewed the scene from a high vantage point.

That was the first time he felt his heart stopping in its march. Not when he was ambushed by numerous vile beasts. Not when he's taking care of vicious bandits. Not when he saw Atalanta's first smiling in front of him…

…because the smile she's displaying then was an expression he'd never seen her make. Her ears and tail, both of which she religiously kept under disguise almost at all times, were out in full public display, as if Jason was the only one who mattered to her at the moment.

And she showed it only to Jason. Not him.

The Atalanta who refused to allow Meleager, and other long-serving party members, to touch her even accidentally, was happily snuggling away into Jason's chest.

Perhaps his teammates had known this all along, and perhaps they'd told him numerous times to give up already. But his stubborn self refused to listen, and simply erased those advices – all of which he considered 'bad influence' – from his memory. There's no sense in acting upon suspicions without the proof.

Because without proof, he still had hope.

Until that, too, was destroyed right in front of his eyes.

His former party members' words soon followed, flowing out of their hiding hole like a flood.

\- Thud.

Everyone else in the Guild's cafeteria subtly shifted away when Meleager not-quite-slammed his alcoholic beverage down.

Not every Guild branch had an in-built cafeteria, purely because of the cost-and-profit ratio in operating it. Naturally, the main branch in Mycenae had the best facilities and taste, as did several large branches such as Athens, Sparta, Thebes, and so on. Though Chiron purposefully designed them to minimize luxury – they're not a restaurant, after all – and focused on taste, size, and price, it's still a popular hangout place for even non-adventurers who're simply seeking a hearty meal.

Its popularity meant the latter often queued up on one of the Guild branch's sidewalls, because proper adventurers always had priority. Show the main reception or the cafeteria workers one's credentials, and usually, those adventurers were shuffled in before the already-waiting regular people. Fortunately, the larger branches also had more staffs to prevent any dissatisfaction or injustice from breaking out too far.

The people understood this, and normally came in at off-periods when the adventurers were usually out taking requests, such as a late brunch or early dinner. After all, these buildings were dedicated to those who used their livelihoods to improve the common folks', risking their health and lives almost daily. Such a minor inconvenience wasn't worth being fussed about.

Right now, it's bustling with activity a few hours after sunset… but also considerably quieter than usual.

The reason was the brooding man near the center of the room.

Meleager might be 'merely' a B-Ranked adventurer, but that's a status most people wouldn't even dream of accomplishing – such was the inherent difficulty of simply _surviving _this long to achieve such rank – and incidentally made him one of the most senior members in the building right now.

The cafeteria ran both buffet and ala-carte, with the former usually the most rambunctious, given the standing nature and communal style of serving. However, right now, they're trying their hardest not to make any unnecessary sounds… or even eye contact, as their extensive experience in barfights across similar establishments in Greece taught them. There's no advantage to be gained in provoking a clearly not-sober and nonsensical person, especially one as influential as Meleager was.

This was also the reason why Atalanta and Jason got away with so much, especially in the Guild's territory, simply because of their international sway of the people there. They didn't rise to their current ranks without making some friends at high places.

…alright, for Atalanta, perhaps the singular form of 'friend' was sufficient. But Jason was certainly as popular as his rank suggested, though he's becoming more withdrawn lately due to the increase of quests he's undertaking.

Both facts Meleager could care less of right now.

His meal laid half-untouched, with his mind clearly not in place to enjoy his meal. The people around him silently conversed with their eyes and occasional whispers, having known the reason of his current mood far earlier than the man himself did.

After all, even with Jason's side being quite tight-lipped, there's always certainly those who'd gossip – people who were taken in to do menial work, saw some things they didn't understand, and blabbered to others who did… who also made the rumor mill spiral out of control with their exaggerated storytelling styles.

Adventurers had their own manners of gathering information separate from the Guild. Even if the rookies couldn't be counted on this department, as they worked on through the years, they would've built up their own personal network – small or large – and became well-connected to some degree. It became more precise when different networks from different adventurers were cross-referenced together whenever they met up, either to form a party or a social call, so they could separate what's fact, a genuinely legit hypothesis, or a simple rumor.

However, how they acted upon those findings was completely up to them, as usual. For example, those who didn't exercise prudence like Meleager would eventually be blindsided, while those who overthought things like Chiron would end up suffering internally.

And this wasn't even accounting those individuals who're able to manipulate information and public opinions like pawns in between their fingers. The public and most people didn't know this, but Jason was certainly one of them. While this was the belief of most of information department heads in various kingdoms and city-states, no one dared to act upon it, for fear of receiving retaliation.

Defenses? Traps? What use were they if the assailant could just blow them all into smithereens with one strike?

This was the level S-Rankers were required to wield such a heavy responsibility.

The unspoken underlying tone of the creation of the Adventurers' Guild was to keep the deities in check, whether they're Olympians or someone else. To rely on the strength of humanity, instead of solely being slaves to divine figures – that's how humanity would improve.

Naturally, those directly involved in this vision had different ideas on how to go on with it, but far before Meleager's and his audiences' thoughts could go there, a shocking scene occurred.

\- Srrt.

Someone actually sat down in front of Meleager and directly stared into him, challenging him to start up the conversation.

"Fuck off."

Obviously, that's all the warning they're going to get from him, before he resorted to lethal violence.

He hadn't even gotten to sorting his feelings in order yet, so how was he going to be able to deal with someone else?

"Make me."

The entire surroundings went deathly quiet, eyeing the small figure creating this scene.

Finally, after several long seconds, Meleager shifted his attention from his beverage… only to be greeted by the sight of an absolute female bombshell.

The thick robes covering her body couldn't hide how voluptuous her breasts and hips were, to the point he suspected those couldn't be natural. Long, wavy black hair – a rarity in these parts, since most people's dark hairs were sun-bleached – and a mesmerizing set of eyes. A sultry smile would've sent any mortals reeling to take off their clothes, regardless of gender, while a sweet-smelling scent emanated from her body.

Clearly not an adventurer.

How did she get in? Who was she? Where did she come from? What did she want?

And, most importantly… why Meleager?

"Not going to do anything?" The gorgeous woman wiggled her eyebrows, clearly satisfied she won the verbal argument. "Well, I happened to have heard of your predicament…"

"You shut your mouth."

Ars Notoria quietly blinked, not expecting this weak-willed human in front of her to reply like so. However, she soon finished analyzing the heart waves coming of the man, and sighed internally towards her own mistake.

Her words could directly be interpreted as a direct challenge against Jason, one of the S-Rankers, spoken inside the Adventurers' Guild in front of so many witnesses. Even if she had the ability to manipulate the memories of everyone here, she's not confident in truly erasing all traces, because of her premature activation against Pandora's original plans. It's riskier when considering the associated parties would be the one to investigate – even Herakles would be able to sniff her out, with his lack of talent in proper criminology of the era.

It's credit to this young man he was able to foresee this problem and stopped her, while still talking somewhat in-character. This was the reason of her instant irritation – the fact a feeble human outperformed her in one task, however minor.

'_They should've stayed as slaves and pets…'_

To her, who came from the 'original human', the species surrounding her right now were copies so inferior they're actually an insult to her 'mother'. Pandora was perfect in every way, surpassing her creators – surely, that's the reason why Zeus and Hephaestus shunned her with such a curse!

With this plan in motion, though, humanity itself would return to its roots.

To Pandora's Box, back where it all began.

She smiled, and began her sales pitch once again to the heartbroken man.


	34. Percy & Andy's Fun-Fun Adventures! (IV)

**Another part of the omake! Like I mentioned in one of my ANs once, I guess you can call this a separation point between arcs, though I prefer to have them meld as smoothly as possible. Unlike the previous chapter, though, this is in-line with the chronological order of the main story. Glad you guys liked the previous one; here's hoping you love this one, too.**

**A small shout-out to the new followers and commenters. Your patronage is most welcome.**

**Not going to ramble on for too long, now; here's the almost-equally short mailbag:  
superpierce: ****Like I said in the AN, this chapter occurs throughout the previous chapters, meaning its timeline is inconsistent with the flow we've been going so far.  
Stratos263: ****They always know better, don't they?  
Anon A: Thanks for the review. As to your dose of fluff, I think I have some in this chapter...  
**

* * *

"You know what; fuck your mother, Andromeda!" Erytheia screamed, dodging yet another large piece of reef, before sprinting away, her silver hair sticky and wet. "Fuck her and her big mouth!"

Andromeda wanted to retaliate immediately, but a large wave of seawater slammed onto her inadvertently from their trashing opponent, leading her to choke from the fluid entering her nose. It's thankfully small and non-lethal, more of an annoyance than anything else – but small distractions like this were what prevented them from finishing up this sudden task.

Atypical of her personality, it's the usually quiet Hespeira who shouted back, "You can't blame that bi- _individual_! We don't have proof, Sister!"

That led to Aigle chuckling, despite her desperate need to perform a similar panicked maneuver to Erytheia. "Hesperia can call someone a 'bitch' now! Yahoo! Let's celebrate after this!" She excitedly yelled, flailing her arms in celebration, completely oblivious to the obvious danger of doing so while skipping over moist seaside cliff stones.

"Shut it and concentrate, you drunkard!" Perseus desperately warned, his polished sword hacking at the stray tentacle creatures which followed the summoning of their largest brethren. The constant foolishness from the three nymphs was really nagging on him now, as even Hesperia – a source of quiet and peace in the group – was dragged into her siblings' antics. "Fuck her _after_ we kill these little shits!"

Right now, all manners of pretense and rational language went out of the window, leading them to curse all over the place after being influenced by the panicking civilians who're fleeing behind them.

Why wouldn't they? A gigantic sea monster was attacking them, after all.

Cetus, the fated monster to signal the first meeting of Perseus and Andromeda… was here.

* * *

Like most sea monsters, because their weight was supported by the ocean, they could grow much bigger than their terrestrial counterparts. Additionally, with the lack of gravity's strength constraining them, they were able to hunt in three dimensions – a realm only flying beasts were able to exploit away from the seas. The Authorities blessing them should be similar if their 'distances' from their patron deities were around the same, so physics were usually the main differentiator.

And Cetus clearly was close to the biggest among them all.

Of course, size didn't mean a being's combat strength was proportional to it. More often than not, the most intelligent and skilled beasts attained enough conscience to concentrate their existence into a more manageable size, increasing both efficiency and effectiveness. And because these two categories increased through multiplication and division, not addition and subtraction, an improvement in both aspects would compound and elevated one's strength several levels over.

This was why Herakles was so impressive. He had immensely dense Divine Blessings and a trained body… and his body _still_ grew to the size of a near-giant. It only showed how much power was packed inside his frame, and made Jason's achievement in besting him in outright combat even more impressive. Typically, warriors at their level maintained a size closer to the redhead or Chiron's human form.

However, given how much Andromeda's team was struggling against it, now they're experienced adventurers, showed how dangerous this one-of-a-kind monster was.

After the destruction of Atlantis, much of the fears regarding the incoming natural disasters were alleviated in the first few weeks, when Poseidon's priests and priestesses clearly felt the [Ocean] Authority under control of someone else. Who, they didn't know yet – but it's clear it's neutral towards humanity, and only sook to do its job in maintaining the seas.

However, for Poseidon's reared creatures, they now roamed in the wild, bereft of a master.

It's not as bad as people think – they were beasts, however powerful, and remained true to their instinctual desires. Usually, they steered clear of human population, much like ordinary animals, and people starting to think they're quite intelligent in that way. After all, why should the two parties look to harm one another when the only thing at stake was pride? Monstrous Beasts or not, they generally swam peacefully in the deep seas, continuing their habitual presence across a wider area.

It should be that simple.

So why was Cetus here?

Once again, the more things change, the more they stayed the same.

Researchers attributed this eternally-true adage to the universe trying to correct aberrations in Quantum Time Locks, as well as those which happened in between them. While [Fate] was flexible, it's not infinite to the point of unaccountability. Even Parallel World Operation utilized the Quantum Time Locks as checkpoints for ease of use – else all users would've sublimated into non-existence due to the sheer scale of information available to them.

Once again… Andromeda's mother boasted to the gods of her daughter's beauty.

Oh, the contents of her sentences were different, sure – but the end result was the same.

Perhaps she'd think twice before blabbering like that towards the ocean, while also defecating right above Cetus's temporary lair.

This time, no gods heard her – certainly not Poseidon – but the beast did.

It didn't grow to this size without possessing more-than-adequate intelligence. It understood her words, but failed to ascertain their fated true impact towards the world. All it knew was this pooping auntie was badmouthing the memories of its former chief feeding officer – Poseidon – and felt an obligation to teach this one a lesson.

First, it rocked the cruise boat the queen was on, before chasing it back to the port it came from.

After that, it intended to sink it right in front of as many witnesses as possible, as a way to show off its true strength – now independent, and all the better for it!

Whether it had any true affection for Poseidon was debatable – all it knew was…

'_This is fun!'_

However, that final act had to be delayed, because five small ants had suddenly appeared and decided to play with it instead.

At first, the engagement was quite entertaining. The five of them had different ways they're trying to hinder him, so it's always an entertaining guessing game as to what came next, and which one it should pay attention to. Not to dodge or block – its Conceptual Weight was far too high for anything they did to have a permanent effect – but a test it had personally and suddenly decided it had to score perfectly in.

But, after several minutes, when it's clear that shitting broad was nowhere to be seen, it decided to get serious. Lightly berating itself for letting its true prey escape because of this blatant attempt of buying time, it roared and slammed its entire frame into the sea bed directly adjacent to the city's coastal bedrocks, causing a medium-sized earthquake to occur and blasting the five ants into different directions.

Oops, careful, careful. Don't want to cause a cave-in, now…

While settlements built on solid marine bedrock were usually resistant to earthquakes, a large enough force wouldn't just crack their foundation, but also summon a tsunami large enough to outright drown them without waiting for the cities to collapse.

And that's not what Cetus wanted.

It wanted to play for longer…

* * *

Aethiopia was not particularly extreme, environment-wise. Despite being located around an arid region, unlike modern times, Northern Africa was still quite lush, with temperate climates year-round and civilization centered around the mighty Nile. While the kingdom itself might not boast the same cultural and historical depth as its close neighbor Egypt, it's still quite a bit richer than most city-states in Mycenaean Greece.

Its people lived by manipulating nature to their advantage, careful not to break the balance between upcoming technology and traditional methods. Sun-kissed, they had darker skin than their Greek counterparts, though they worshipped the same pantheon and participated in roughly the same festivals across the year. Seen this way, it's Egypt who's an outlier – with its own established pantheon and religion – and Aethiopia could be considered an extension of Greek influence.

Still, given the geographical conditions, not everything could be just replicated easily. As was always the case, many customs were adapted according to whatever's convenient at the time, with regular trips by high priests and priestesses their sole baseline to 'straighten' any blasphemy.

Over time, relationships between it and the Greek city-states grew stronger as maritime technology moved on, as well as advancement in long-distance Thaumaturgical communication. The high levels of Mystery in this era had its particular interference when researchers attempted what amounted to the concept of a smartphone into a roll of papyrus, but with more diligent studies, they found a closer relationship to the deities who're the source of these disturbances made the connection more efficient and effective.

To put it simply, they had to pay a hefty long-distance call fee – either through sacrifices or festivals – to maintain a reasonable information traffic, which should be beneficial for both parties.

Because Olympians were hedonistic by nature – even reclusive ones like Hecate and Persephone, though the latter wasn't by choice – this method required great sponsorship commitments from major powers, such as Athens, Thebes, and Sparta. This was one of the reasons why communication technology didn't advance as fast as it should be, given what Thaumaturgy could provide and become… if it truly focused on advancing humanity as a whole.

Unfortunately, the Aethiopian royal family wasn't talented in Magecraft; therefore, their letter to invite Andromeda back home after she'd made a name for herself took quite a long time to be delivered, read, replied, and sent back.

When she arrived with her team, the coastline was in complete chaos.

A large… _something_ was wreaking havoc, wildly swinging its massive body and appendages to damage everything in sight. The only thing missing from the picture was the roaring flames, usually caused by an errant spark igniting flammable materials amidst the chaos… or from the beast itself spouting out flames.

Fortunately, this one didn't seem to fire-breathe.

Fat lot did the fact do to reassure the panicking civilians.

Instantly, without any form of verbal communication, Hesperia froze a small section of the sea – as they're still on the ship trapped among the traffic jam caused by the monster – enabling them to walk on the newly-created bridge of ice towards the large monster. They had to be quick, as the red-haired timid nymph was struggling – [Water] wasn't her strongest suit, despite her race's natural habitat. Additionally, creating an ice platform for anyone to move quickly on was difficult in the details, because a flat sheet would just cause anyone who stepped on it to slip off into the sea.

Instead, unlike the phantasmal legends of entire landmasses made out of ice, where people could cross oceans as easily as they walked the plains, the ice created from [Water] Magecraft needed to be mixed with many other Elements in smaller amounts, creating a primordial pykrete. Accomplished practitioners could make it indistinguishable from pure white snow, leading amateurs to believe all they had to do was master the [Water] Element.

Hesperia clearly wasn't among their numbers, as all she could do was create a dull brown bridge with [Wood] Element clearly showing on its surface. Additionally, she had to create them around the confused traffic of ships, as well as away from the rampaging beast. For her, who was neither specialized nor purely strong enough for this feat, ensuring safe passage for her and her team alone was an arduous task.

Plus, with the strength and speed Perseus's physical style required, it's paramount the redhead produce a textured surface, instead of a completely smooth one – which was much simpler in terms of effort and calculations. The lighter women struggled even more so, with their lack of weight meant they couldn't create enough contact pressure to elicit sufficient grip from their soles.

Fortunately, all the 'ice' she had to create was just for them to be able to reach the monster. There's no need to waste the effort of evacuating civilians; distracting the beast would help much more.

"Hah!" With a shout, Hesperia heaved mentally and elevated the pykrete platform diagonally into the air, creating a launch platform for her sprinting sisters and teammates. After she too had jumped, she threw the slab at the monster…

…which Cetus promptly ignored like a swat from a thin blanket.

It was _huge_.

Well, besides stating the obvious… it's even larger than that word – 'huge' – implied. Clearly the biggest thing they'd faced by far, since it hadn't been long since they're promoted to C-Rank, and well into the category of opponents A-Rankers faced regularly. In a time where even appropriate-ranked quests could easily maim or kill, a difference in two whole steps was certain death.

However, adventurers wouldn't be themselves if they weren't challenging the impossible. How could they improve otherwise? Wasn't this why they chose or was forced into this occupation?

Timidity was a virtue, not a hindrance. Caution was a blessing, not a curse.

Hesperia drew her strength from knowing those facts, enough to look at Cetus right in the eyes.

"Hiiiiiiii!"

She's still a work in progress.

* * *

"Haa… Haa… Haa…"

Soon, though, the name-calling of Andromeda's mother stopped, mainly because most of them were too out of breath to do anything else.

Some reinforcements had arrived, mostly from military ships passing through. However, their enchanted arrows were a far cry from Atalanta's, as legions of them were barely able to pierce the thick, slimy skin of this oceanic creature. Flaming catapults were too much of a risk – much too slow a firing rate, immobile targets, and shorter range from mobile platforms – so all they had on top of that were javelin throwers gathered from the volunteers and the available military.

It's tight… because only a few minutes had passed. Aethiopia couldn't gather serious firepower in that space of time, even when their crown princess was battling with her life on the line. That was the amount of time required for a beast reared by Poseidon himself to corner a group of relatively average adventurers, even while playing around.

\- BOOM!

"Ugh…!" Perseus groaned as his body was flung backwards from the mini-shockwave caused from Cetus ramming its side into the rocks, slamming him hard. "Argh…"

"Kyah!" Andromeda slipped from the wet surface, stumbling forwards right into Cetus's welcoming maw.

It's getting bored of playing now. Perhaps it's time to finish things up…

"Andromeda!" Aigle screamed, scrambling to reach her with something… _anything_! "Take this!"

A solid beam of light formed from her palm, creating a rope which flung itself towards one of Andromeda's legs. However, a jet from one of the orifices on Cetus's long body cut it short, leaving the Aethiopian princess to continue her slippage.

Now, her foot had left solid ground and began its descent through the air.

\- Splash!

Before Hesperia and Erytheia could do anything, the sea had claimed their team leader.

"ANDROMEDA!"

Using a tone of voice he rarely used, Perseus shouted and dived to follow her without further thought.

\- Splash!

Before he could reach her, however, his body met the tip of Cetus's tail, flicking him up onto the surface with a "BAM!", tossing him back to where he came from. He could feel the instant his entire ribcage shattered and digestive tract bruised, but the seawater suffocated his mouth the instant he decided to scream, filling it with a mixture of salty liquid and the metallic tang of his own blood.

Still groggy, he wiped the water from his eyes, but his vision was filled by the side-view of Aigle checking on his vitals. Knowing they didn't have much time to spare, he grunted, trying to raise one hand to form the 'OK' sign, but Erytheia held him down from behind, out of sight.

"A-Andromeda… G-Get her first…" he managed to cough out, but the faces of his beautiful party members were grave. "D-Don't give u-up on her l-like that…! Shit…"

"It's not like that!"

Hesperia's voice answered from somewhere out of his field of vision, but somehow, there was a certain confidence in it.

"…what?" He hoarsely whispered, to which Aigle beamed with a smile, dispersing his earlier worries as if it's just a dream.

"Reinforcement's arrived."

His eyes painfully followed where her finger was pointing… to a silhouette of a small person riding a winged and horned horse, and Cetus turning into stone.

* * *

A crimson array appeared before Medusa's face, forming a ritual circle larger than her body, with which she could focus Cybele's powers into a hyper-destructive beam.

It impacted the trashing sea monster dead-on, having been blindsided by Medusa's flight pattern backing the sun's rays. Right now, this wasn't taxing on her body, unlike her previous out-of-control transformation, and the crimson-violet beam was more focused and efficient.

Alicorn neighed softly from underneath her, the mare's soft bone-white mane dancing in the wind, asking for her attention as the battle had finished in a split second. Stroking the Monstrous Beast's fur with her tiny hand, she yawned, slightly bored due to the sheer weak abilities of the Cetus, when compared to her. However, the winged and horned horse seemed to be indicating something else, pointing to a spot near the devastated port, where the bare shoreline beneath it was revealed.

Noticing some familiar faces, she maneuvered Alicorn using Bellerophon to land gently near the crowded Perseus. "Are you alright?"

Of course, the tone was filled with venom enough to kill Cetus several times over, as was the rhetorical question. Anyone with eyes could see he's _far_ from alright: the copious amount of coagulated blood coughed out with every other breath, the clear indentation on his thorax from the broken ribcage, the sizzling lacerations from the salt of the seawater…

Instinctively, Hesperia moved to shield the weakened man from Medusa's scathing gaze, but Erytheia immediately took control of the situation. "Our leader, Andromeda, was pulled into the sea! Young miss, please, save her!"

The desperate plea from the usually-arrogant nymph seemed to have pleased Medusa, as she grunted and nodded, allowing her oversized hood to cover her face. Tapping Alicorn's side, she muttered, "Stay here and guard them. Use Bellerophon as you wish."

Without waiting for anyone's reply, her form blurred from her speed, as the spot where she stood previously burst into a small crater from her legs' exertion. Faster than anyone could perceive, her tiny body glowed faintly as a long serpentine limb formed out of her lower ones. Her streamlined form meant she slipped into the ocean depths without a sound, and she swum quickly to the flailing Andromeda – who's struggling to remove her heavy armor and weapons underwater – wrapping her up with Medusa's golden-scaled snake body.

\- Plop!

Athena's daughter internally calculated how much strength she should use, before lobbing the Aethiopian princess onto the surface, right next where Perseus was lying. The impact allowed the seawater in Andromeda's stomach to expel itself out, leaving her coughing and vomiting the rest of the invading materials to the ground… right at Erytheia's feet.

"Eeeewwwwwww…!" The white-haired nymph screamed, shooting forwards with her hands and cupped her team leader's face, twisting it to the side to prevent any additional torrents of stomach acid to fall near her. "Y-You're despicable…!"

Aigle gently patted Andromeda's upper back, while Hesperia already had her arms wrapped around her stomach to put more pressure on it. "Now, now, you're being unfair…" The oldest sibling cooed to Erytheia, while eyeing Medusa's transformation at one side.

\- Pitter, patter…

The serpentine form quickly reverted back into her normal, stubby legs, as she walked childishly towards her mount.

"Miss Medusa, are you leaving so soon?" Hesperia quietly uttered, as she was the closest to the young girl. "We… W-We should show you o-our gratitude with a treat!"

"No need. I was just passing by, and helped out of curiosity. A chance meeting, you can say," she coldly brushed the nymph's invitation off. "I still need to complete this shopping list…"

She then wordlessly gazed into the empty air, as if viewing said list in her mind, before snapping back after a few seconds, "In any case, I'm busy. Goodbye."

* * *

\- Nom!

"Dis is dhelishous!"

At the Aethiopian royal castle, Medusa was busy stuffing herself full of sweet treats and juicy, fatty meat.

Compared to Arcadia, the building was low-slung, though occupying roughly the same area. It showed it's less powerful and wealthy than the kingdom with famous natural reserves, especially now with Lord Jason as the king consort, but the royal family did its best to design and decorate it tastefully. As the weather was quite a bit hotter than their northern neighbors, the angles of the roof and walls were shaped to maximize the amount of shade available while still maintaining a good vertical air circulation. Aethiopia didn't lack natural sunlight, so there's no need for excessive opening for sky-gazers and astronomers to utilize at night.

It was simply too hot and humid during the day, though it paled when compared to its modern-day counterpart.

\- Nom!

"Mmmnnn…!" Medusa involuntarily cupped one of her cheek as she scooped fall-off-the-bone brisket meat topped with savory fruit cream into her small mouth. "Exshkuishite! Bery ghooodd…!"

She wiggled her legs about at the taste on top of Andromeda's lap, who's playing host today. While the depth of flavor was clearly inferior to her husband's orgasmic dishes – quite literally, as she had physically climaxed several times during their meals – it's very decent indeed, comparable to the best dishes she'd eaten outside of Arcadia's now-homely private royal dining room.

Silently, the dark-skinned princess being used as a couch was giving Hesperia a silent approving smile, for managing to keep an honored guest from leaving just like that. Aethiopia could only benefit from hosting this seemingly powerless little girl, even when one only viewed it from a purely political point of view. If word got out the kingdom treated this lovely girl well, wouldn't Arcadia look upon kindly on them? Even if it's an invisible benefit, it's still beneficial.

Oh, and she'd _definitely _get some words out regarding this.

Additionally, that thoughts about this 'powerless little girl'? Medusa could very well flatten the entire kingdom _by herself_ if she wanted to.

That's what made Arcadia's sharp rise both alarming and understandable. The king consort himself was equal to legions of armies from multiple city-states by himself, and the tales of reigning queen's powerful arrows in the Calydonian Boar Hunt – with a great assistance of this very girl sitting on Andromeda's lap – had spread far and wide. Princess Medea of Colchis's skill with Magecraft needed no explanation, and some expert scholars believed Arcadia's sudden advance in usable technology was due to her.

Also, the fact her parents were unable to tear Medusa away from her lap was another bonus, strengthening her position in the royal court. At the very least, it'd allow her more freedom in her adventuring, instead of being forced to marry.

Besides, the guy her parents were fancying was kinda…

Well, it's Perseus.

Discounting the fact Medusa outright refused to come along if his presence was around, Andromeda herself didn't know what to feel about this. For sure, he wouldn't easily go along with it anyway – their professional relationship had gotten along for quite some time that inserting anything more intimate would only be detrimental in the short term.

She owed it to the three nymph sisters to see through their adventure to the end, and that's _if_ she chose to settle down and marry, just like her parents wanted. She might not do that at all, if she could have her way with it.

Therefore, she'd do her utmost to stuff Medusa's mouth with as many delicious things as possible, to cement their relationship as faux-confidants.

To be honest, Andromeda wasn't sure Medusa even remembered her name, much less being friends with her. Perhaps, in the latter's mind, she was labeled as 'the girl besides Perseus'… which made her stomach upset. She's the team leader, alright?! _He's_ the one who should be described like that! 'The guy besides Princess Andromeda'… didn't that sound a lot better?!

Though, thankfully, the violet-haired girl was cut from a reasonable cloth, as she didn't categorize Andromeda under the same antagonistic behavior as her male partner.

'_No, stop calling him a 'partner' in your head! He's an __**underling**__! Not equal to you!'_ She berated herself, maintaining a kind façade out front.

In fact, her acting seemed to be _too_ successful, as Erytheia's face paled whenever their gazes met. Aigle and Hesperia were shivering at the changes she exhibited today – all made in the name of "Freedom!" – compared to her usual strict commanding style.

"Mmmmmhhhhhhhhhoooooooooooorrrrrrrreeeeeeee!" Medusa bellowed, summoning another rush of panicking servants.

Truly, the lifestyle of a hero felt good…

* * *

"Oh, you're here, Alicorn? Then… Medusa's having fun inside, wasn't she?"

Pressured by Medea's cold smile and squinted eyes, the Monstrous Beast shivered and whimpered, lowering its head towards the magus's feet. Its master had told it to 'hide well', so people wouldn't necessarily know she's there, but… the girls outside looked so _delicious_…

So, when the estimated time for Medusa to return had elapsed, Medea immediately teleported towards her vicinity, eager to see whether the little girl had hit trouble or not.

However, it seemed like she's _making_ trouble, not befallen by it.

Sighing, Medea waved her long staff and teleported Alicorn back to its stable in Arcadia, where various magic circles were located to prevent it running wild without Medusa's presence. Then, she flicked her long robe backwards, allowing it to flutter in the warm winds of Aethiopia, before making her way inside the royal palace.

Of course, entering grandly would only give Medusa time to escape. So, Medea silently uttered a concealment charm, making her completely undetectable to every mortal senses. The thing was… Medusa had many, many more sensitive senses when compared to the normal human being, so this would only help the magus so much to close onto the little girl's location.

'_Really, how old does she think she is? Still playing around at this time…'_ she grumbled internally, before levitating her now-invisible self towards where she perceived Medusa's magical signature was.

This daughter of Athena didn't even bother to hide it! Any self-respecting magus or those with Thaumaturgical affinity could've sensed her from miles out, completely negating the order she gave her mount. The horse's Conceptual Weight, too, was at the level of holy beasts – those too precious to use as even a sacrifice to the gods, and the pride of nations – and Medusa failed to conceal that as well.

As expected, Medea could see Medusa's overflowing violet hair splayed onto the floor, a sign she's completely relaxed and having lowered her guard. The delectable scent of a feast wafted over the floating magus, though her spell meant it's difficult for her to recognize every individual element, for fear of allowing her own scent to spread around. Magecraft had always been about Equivalent Exchange, and if she wished to be undetectable, she herself needed to suppress her own senses against unnecessary information to do so.

'_This should be as close as I can get,'_ she thought, before teleporting right beside Andromeda.

\- Beep! Beep! Beep!

As expected, the entire royal complex was equipped with anti-teleportation measures, and alarms immediately blared as soon as the process was completed. Medusa, too, realized something was wrong an instant before it went off… but it was too late.

…because Medea's vice-like grip had encased the top of her head like a deadly claw, complete with a beautiful and lethal smile.

"A-Ah… A-Ahahahaha…" Medusa sweat-dropped, her jaws chattering gently together. "…want some?"

Of course, their physical strength differed significantly – as far as heaven and earth. However, what the magus exerted was mental pressure, especially her anger, though she silently Reinforced this emotional concept, [Anger], into [Fear] against everyone present.

"…please?"

No one could hear Medusa's pitiful whisper, as the two of them instantly teleported away without so much a greeting from the Colchian Princess.

* * *

\- Knock. Knock.

"Come on in," Perseus calmly answered.

The door clicked open to a rather incredulous sight: his own team leader… bringing him food. His surprise was apparently showing through his face, as Andromeda immediately clicked her tongue and berated, "What? Do you think I'm some kind of demon?"

"…well, yes?"

"Screw you."

Oh, she wanted to curse at him using a far coarser language, but palace workers loved nothing more than gossip. The chance of one of them overhearing snippets of her conversation and blowing it out of proportion wasn't worth the satisfaction of freely cursing someone else's out, because it didn't suit how a princess should behave. Even those Amazons expect their diplomats to be as respectful as they're martially able, so there's no reason why Andromeda shouldn't restrain her own mouth _in her own house_.

\- Clack.

She didn't-quite-slammed the food tray at the low table in the guest room, as the ground was cooler at this time of the day due to conductive temperature differences in Aethiopia. That's why the bed Perseus was sitting on was considerably lower to the ground than the inns they frequented in Greece, far up north, where the climate was more temperate.

Still glaring at his stupefied face, she calmed her tone down and continued, "I won't apologize for placing you here. But it's my duty as your party leader to make sure you're healthy and well-fed, so here you are."

Perseus silently nodded, sliding down to observe the tray of food closer. It's nothing incredibly extravagant – just simple, piping-hot, seductive bowls of various stew meats and burnt root vegetables. It's a set meal he wouldn't usually be able to eat during his adventuring, because they needed to be spendthrift. Additionally, the occasions they could splurge were populated by Aigle's alcoholic drinks and complex, whole-animal main dishes. Homey dishes like this were rare.

Huffing away, Andromeda muttered as soon as Perseus began eating, "…thanks."

"…hm?" The maroon-haired man mumbled with a full mouth.

Before he could process her word even further, she slammed her palms onto the table and declared, "There's my gratitude! I'm leaving!"

Coming like a storm, and leaving like a storm.

Perseus was left there alone, in a room doubling as a cage to prevent Medusa from seeing him, still confused to whatever's going on.

* * *

**Glossary Update!**

* * *

**A**

**Alicorn: Forbidden Union  
Rank: A~EX  
Type: Anti-Army  
Range: 100~?**

**Max. Targets: 500~?**

Medusa's favored mount, found while grazing in the lush natural forests of arcadia. A rare form of hybrid, even among Phantasmal Species, it's somewhat different than a modern interpretation of a normal Pegasus, because it's a crossbreed between a bicorn and a Pegasus. As a result, it's considerably bulkier and muscular than a normal member of either species, with its own head as large as a hippopotamus's.

Because it's descended from a bicorn, a race famous for its impure preferences, it only allowed non-virgins to ride them. This particular one was attracted to Medusa's scent, both as a potential mating partner and as a worthy rider. Unfortunately, the former thought was quickly squashed when it met the girl's husband… And thus the memories of 'that day' was permanently sealed voluntarily inside its own mind.

Like most Phantasmal Species, it held the potential to continuously grow with age. This particular one was young, still at the rank of a Monstrous Beast, though it expected to 'fill in', so to speak, once it bonded with a powerful enough tamer-slash-rider. Via a strong blood ritual, it's able to impose itself on anyone it found worthy, regardless of sex – as it's hermaphrodite, befitting of a mutated hybrid – but it's more from a desire to have a companion, as its species was unbelievably rare, leaving it lonely more often than not.

Aside from its supernaturally high physical ability, it hadn't developed any other abilities yet.

* * *

**B**

**Bellerophon: Gilded Motor  
Rank: A++  
Type: Support  
Range: 1  
Max. Targets: 1**

Medusa's bridle-and-whip set to complement her partnership with Alicorn, crafted by her beloved husband himself. Using the shed skin of her serpentine form, left over after several transformations – aging and de-aging did that – as well as other mystical materials from the wastes of mythical beings, it in itself was near-indestructible, perfect to be paired with Phantasmal Species with great power but risky collateral damage. It improved Medusa's [Riding] skills beyond its limits, allowing her somewhat partial control to even the Dragon Kind, provided they had prior mutual understanding.

Simply shaped and without any other decorations, apart from its naturally golden color, it boosted the physical and magical characteristics of any living being it's placed on. While enforced control was possible with enough pressure, Medusa disliked using this ability, holding on to the philosophy of mutual partnership, instead of slavery. However, a similar passive ability remained constantly active, subtly enhancing her image in front of any being she wished to tame and ride.

The level of parameter increase depended on Medusa's familiarity with her mounts, as well as the cooperation – or undying loyalty – of the latter. When equipped to a Phantasmal Species, it would directly rank up by one level – for instance, a Monstrous Species would transform into its equivalent evolution as a Phantasmal Beast – excluding any support from Medusa herself. Its strongest usage was usually in the form of an all-out charge, when the mount raged to the utmost and transformed into a mighty comet, decimating enemies over a wide area. Its charge was near-unstoppable, barring special defensive circumstances. Medusa was nigh-invulnerable in this position.

* * *

**C**

**Chrysaor: Golden Man-Sword  
Rank: C  
Type: Anti-Unit; Anti-Monster  
Range: 10  
Max. Targets: 5**

Perseus's main sword. Forged after splurging whatever allowance was granted to him by Andromeda, it's a bronze-steel-brass alloy which shone like gold under the sunlight. Its steel core and cutting edge was supplemented by the softer brass and bronze at its core with Thaumaturgical Blacksmithing, creating an alloy bond unusual to be replicated by modern techniques. Because of its unique electromagnetic properties, the sword wouldn't rust even without specific enchantments, allowing it to be imbued with other blessings without fear of complications.

Shaped like a single-edged saber, but also with a significant length of its spine being a cutting edge, it's general form was commonly used among Greek military. Its [Anti-Monster] attribute was born from quenching it in the blood of various Monstrous Beasts, as well as the engravings written by the priestesses of Artemis. Due to its ease of use, it's a very popular weapon among Perseus's colleagues, and they often 'borrowed' it without permission.


	35. Plot Brewery

**Long time no see! Unfortunately, the slowing of my schedule I mentioned previously hit real hard and fast, since I've just moved to a new job. I was able to write every now and then because the company rules are not very strict, but the business of acclimating to a new environment took up most of my time. Another problem is that this update schedule will likely stick for the foreseeable future, so hopefully you guys can be more patient.**

**Now, on a more cheery note: A-1 Pictures has done a _great_ job on animating the FGO anime. Its fight choreography - the standard I judge most animes - is right up there with Ufotable, who's industry leading no matter what anyone says. Also, I've been busy on the beta front lately - check out Kokosoko's, sarin555's, and Venompool's stories which I've worked on! I won't tell you which one of theirs I have a hand in... You guys have to guess from the quality alone! Give them my shout-out when you visit.**

**After a long while, the mailbag's back!  
****KRKing: ****Yeah, I deliberately used her tanned illustrations from the light novel, instead of the more Caucasian (and closer to Penthesilea) skin tone in the concept arts.  
Serpent King: [the reviews' excerpt] Regarding your info, which one should take humanoid forms when summoned? Counter Force or Guardian? Because of this event, it should be postponed until much later in the story. As for who Andromeda's partner will be... I'll leave it to you to stew around. Alicorn is a female most of the time, though it can theoretically reproduce with both sexes. Being a mutation, the chance of it having offspring will be small.  
Herpasuke: ****Those are legitimate constructive criticisms. I'll take some or all of it on board, because it's very hard to implement them all in one story, or even between stories, as it's inherent to my own writing style. I'm still striving to improve, and those areas are the ones ripe for development in future projects, or even latter chapters in this story - as you can see when comparing HV-S01 & HV-S02.  
10: ****I don't entirely agree with you, solely because of the data we now have from Fate/strange fake. So we shouldn't hold his Prototype version against him.**

* * *

"Maybe I'm rusty…?" Pandora questioned herself softly, as she made herself home in the makeshift place she'd chosen. "They've been able to track me down too easily and quickly lately…"

Dropping her body on the large cushion – forcibly stolen, of course – she pondered of the recent developments of things.

Of course, procurement of a base of operations was paramount, especially with her stunt in confronting the still-active Heroic Vessel SHIRŌ in the past. While she had full intention on following through with her threat back then, there's no doubt the risk she'd take wouldn't be worth it. Yes, she's afraid to perish, but what frightened her more was the fact her plans wouldn't be completed if she died right then and there, even if it meant a good, satisfying slap to Alaya's proverbial face when she killed him and everyone he cared about.

She took advantage of what weakness every Heroic Vessel had – including herself – the absolute refusal to settle for a compromise.

When faced with the option to sacrifice one to save ten, then they as a whole would only get strong enough to save all eleven individuals. No questions asked.

For her, it's her quest to destroy Alaya.

For him, it's his women.

Neither of them wished… no, they weren't even _born_ with the ability or desire to compromise. Therefore, only combat served as a fitting conclusion.

To prove Alaya's methods were wrong. To make him see he's no different than its previous pawns. To make everyone witness its fall, and how it turned her into this version of herself.

Oh, she was no fool. With her access to the Akashic Records, how could she not know of her other 'selves' in other realities? It's not as complete and flawless as SHIRŌ's ability to do so, for sure – because she's, after all, incomplete – but enough to garner a good guess of what's happening around her, and how she grew under various circumstances.

And none of them showed her living happily as a normal person, or even living a satisfactory life like SHIRŌ's.

Did that not mean Alaya's efforts were futile? That, no matter how much time and possibilities passed, nothing would ever change from the fate she's ordained with? The fate to suffer indignations, one after the other, under those tyrannical gods' rule, expectations, and 'protection'. Alaya sweet-talked her with the claimed ability to change those very same fate… but what happened in the end?

Absolutely _nothing_.

So, it fell upon her responsibility to 'correct' this mistake.

She saw it. Her small, frail body, used as a vessel of sins, just like her previous weak self before meeting Alaya. Only this time, and several other times, she met other people: humans, demigods, Titans, Protogenoi, time-travelers, and so on. Learning so many things from them, tasting what they called 'happiness', and feeling like she'd harnessed the [Hope] rooted deep inside her as a safety mechanism for the myriad of things sealed in herself.

Only, at the end, she was still sacrificed for other people's goals and ideals. Those very same people whom she trusted, she considered friends and new families.

Betrayed her. Just like what Alaya did.

"That's a nice look on your face."

The one speaking wasn't her usual companions, which meant her tomes – or what remained of them.

Of course, the mocking tone clearly indicated this person held no good will towards her, given their current circumstances.

Hera glared at her, despite her mouth widening in a demeaning sneer. "I've seen that look before. 'Betrayal', wasn't it? That's what you're thinking? Well, let me tell you- G-GAH!"

\- Squelch.

Impassively, Pandora twisted her palm, which was now redecorating Hera's stomach. Getting pleasurable shivers whenever her fingers made contact with the goddess's various innards, she gently caressed and squeezed and scratched and twisted…

Each eliciting a beautiful scream from the blonde-haired Mother Goddess, wife to the man who ordered her birth.

"…g-guh – T-That's your response, huh, little brat? No… should I say 'traitor to humanity' instead?!"

\- BANG!

A well-placed punch obliterated Hera's head, but it's rapidly growing back to the same arrogant face which had been talking back to her the past several months. As was the wound in her stomach, which made it more satisfying when Pandora kept on reopening the healed wounds to elicit soft whimpers from the restrained goddess.

Truly, these Olympians knew how to run their mouth, _every damned time_.

The most annoying part was Hera's opportunistic move when she was captured to parasitize her life force onto Pandora's, given the goddess was in possession of Eros's Divine Graph at the time. Combining the Authorities she had at hand – despite the male god's own wasn't fully optimized for her due to the rush-job – she created a lifeline between her soul and Pandora's.

Meaning, she'd continue to heal, despite Pandora's best efforts, so long as the little girl wasn't prepared to take permanent damage to her 'self' to kill Hera.

It's an attribute unique to her position as the 'Mother Goddess' – meaning the element of [Birth] was under her control, as the Goddess of [Families]. Whether she actually gave birth to many beings was irrelevant – only that the act itself being associated with her was enough. In a way, it, too, was a subsidiary of [Life], a subset of the long-lost Ophion, the deity who held the original Authority in his palms.

Oh, Hera wasn't so arrogant to say she's as powerful as that Protogenoi. As was the law of the universe, the successor would generally be inferior to the predecessor. She was two generations removed from that being – whom she suspected was no longer on the planet anymore – and thus only had superficial understanding of that aspect of nature.

That said, she _was_ a goddess, thus 'superficial' for her was leagues above any demigods or mortals, or even some of her fellow Olympians. It was simplicity itself when she held power enough for two deities to create a pseudo-contract with Pandora's being, especially when the girl let her guard down in thinking of her successful capture.

She maintained a haughty expression on the outside, knowing this was the face which could – and _would_ – rile up this girl the most.

This kind of opponent couldn't be reasoned with, either verbally or physically. Her only hope of surviving was play the damsel in distress, and hope her champion could wrap up whatever was holding him from embarking on a grand quest to save her RIGHT NOW very, very _quickly_.

Preferably, like… _now_?

How long had it been? Or did they even not notice her disappearance?

Yes, that must be the case. After all, she herself didn't fully comprehend the anomaly ravaging Olympus – no doubt Pandora's doing – until Athena came and discussed the basics with her. Zeus, Poseidon… these were key figures, and not only her, but their most trusted priests and priestesses couldn't put a finger on what truly was wrong either.

Until it was too late.

She mentally shook her head _hard_. There's no sense to be pessimistic now, because doing so would only weaken her spirit. She didn't care whether Pandora was aware of her thoughts or not; now was just a matter of surviving. However long it took.

Besides, if their connection could truly share thoughts, either one-way or both, then Hera had a new game to play. She'd bombard Pandora's thoughts with annoying and disturbing information, just to distract her from whatever she's plotting.

Because whatever it was, it's clearly something big… and was about to be completed.

She could take heart in the way Pandora was desperately running away from… _something_, because it meant she'd hit a setback in her plans, despite her confident aura. While Hera didn't know beforehand the little girl was confined within Olympus's heart – a secret she's cursing her husband for keeping, as with his various mistresses – Hera did know from conversations with Athena and Ares that one should be hard-pressed to vacate a position of superiority unless something had gone wrong.

And, judging from how hard she's torturing the goddess today in particular, it'd gone wrong in a spectacular manner.

Perhaps Jason was even more formidable than she thought? Hera's experience with Pandora told her she's no match for the little girl, both in terms of attribute match-up and raw power output. The goddess herself didn't have a good grasp on other deities' battle prowess, either – bar Athena and Ares, who're both famous for it – so she didn't have too much data to compare to.

So… Jason was stronger than her all this time? And she was ordering him around just like how a normal deity would to a mortal champion?

She had to admit, this realization was embarrassing.

While there were plenty of occasions where a successor overthrowing the predecessor – Olympus being the prime example – there's always support from a being of a higher plane of existence. There was no account of someone using their own power to overthrow the dynasty before them…

But this redheaded boy could be the first. No, he's no longer a boy, now – he's a _man_, in accordance to the ritual she herself blessed.

Thus, it wouldn't be far-fetched to hope Jason could defeat this lost creature in front of her. From what she'd observed from humanity, there were too many times when their prayers were simply ridiculous and far-fetched, purely because the deities couldn't do _everything_ for them, right? The natural degeneration of their powers when crossing from Mount Olympus to the mortal plane was bad enough, and now their worshipers wanted them to do things even more complicated and exhausting?

Get real!

For instance, praying to Hera to safeguard a family from a volcanic eruption, despite the clear fact the time they spent praying should've been used to evacuate! What kind of powerful Authority she must wield to cure these people of their idiocy?! Seriously!

Perhaps she could bless them with a temporary force field, if she found them to be pious enough. However, it's certainly not on a level which could withstand Hephaestus's 'accidental discharge' for a long period of time, and if her words of caution failed to reach the family, then they're too stupid to be worth the hassle, after all.

She cared for her believers, but only those who proved themselves continuously to be worthy would receive her constant vigilance and effort. If they didn't care for their own safety, then why should she? She's not the kind of deity like Ares, who prized glorified deaths and suffering.

However, this was not arrogance on her part. She truly believed she'd done enough for Jason, if not for the entire world, to deserve to see out this Pandora's destruction.

At that time, she didn't care whether she'd survive the process or not – the continuous torture had ensured the whittling of her sense of self-preservation – only that her grievances would be avenged.

Just like the very thing driving Pandora forward… it, too, would be her downfall.

She's sure of it.

Before long, she lost consciousness, with her last memory being Pandora's adorably frustrated face.

Close by, Meleager was carefully eyeing the Mother Goddess, arms folded in a secure pose.

* * *

Unfortunately, good things rarely last. Those which did usually came at a great cost – one far too taxing for anyone involved to enjoy those aforementioned good things. The temporary ones usually felt the sweetest, solely for their fleeting nature, while the eternal ones generally grew to be underappreciated and taken for granted.

Was it due to mortals' own… well, _mortality_? The fact they usually required challenges and setbacks just so they could enjoy the momentary joy and pleasure?

In any case, Medea certainly wasn't very happy right now.

The fact she needed to steel herself just to ask a simple favor from her fellow wives and husband made her angry… at _herself_. Hadn't they gone through enough? Weren't they close and intimate enough? This was simply disrespectful to the bond they had!

More than anything, she was angry at her own cowardice, which was suddenly springing back with vengeance after a spell of self-confidence – one she bragged about mentally to herself just a short while ago. Where was the confident wife-cum-magus who regularly competed with two other amazing women for the love of her life's attention? Where was the intelligent and efficient woman who handled Arcadian internal court duties in record time?

She was frustrated when the people around her was the first to notice something was wrong with her, and felt the need to spend energy to reach out to her for something she should've dealt with herself and in an instant.

"Oh? Just something that simple? Of course we shall march!" Atalanta boldly declared inside the royal studies, where they're dealing with another wave of paperwork related to the recent developments and reformations within Arcadia. "Should we raze everything to the ground?"

"O-Of course not! Discreet! Quiet!" Medea, flustered, quickly rebuked, to which Atalanta's excited ears and tail flattened in disappointment.

Earlier, she muttered how she'd like to investigate the rumors her little brother was in a pinch, due to some unknown forced brewing around Colchis. Her father's behavior had been erratic, at least publicly, and there's no way Medea could maintain her Thaumaturgical connection to Colchis after all this time and between such a long distance.

While their husband was dealing with the matters regarding Iolchos, it's left to them to run Arcadia's day-to-day operation – which was what's acceptable to the people, anyway. Humans were fickle like that – perfectly competent rulers like Iasus and Pelias were quickly dishonored and forgotten in favor of the more 'fashionable' and 'popular' choices, namely Atalanta and Jason, simply because their stories appealed better with the masses. It's not even a given they would govern and grow better than their predecessors, but people were quick to jump to any bandwagon they saw in their boring daily life.

Of course, Atalanta had no desire to remain at the same level as her hateful father. She was determined – despite her tortured expression at times – to be a queen so great her father's name would be erased from history, just to spite his decision to abandon her to die in the wilds.

An overreaction? Medea and Medusa thought it was only fitting. It's a miracle Atalanta hadn't stormed the Arcadian royal castle and execute her father publicly already, given her occasional uneven temperament. It's not as if her younger self cared of what the public thought of her anyway – only what Shirō, and _perhaps_ Chiron, did – so the chances of it happening had things went differently was quite great.

Still, she felt like the older woman was forcing herself out of character recently, trying to go beyond her comfort zone a little bit _too_ much.

And with Shirō often unavailable now…

Recently, Arcadia's new power structure had finally disseminated to the public. Medea wasn't sure who first caught wind of it, but it's surprisingly both accurate and respectful in its spread. Obviously, Atalanta reigned as empress, but Shirō's position, while initially misunderstood as 'the man behind the woman', was finally accepted as mostly a figurehead who preferred to continue his adventuring whilst helping his wife part-time. When Atalanta had that action itch, she'd dump her work onto Medea or Medusa – the latter's cuteness had inadvertently been cast as Arcadia's new national mascot – and rampage on several quests herself.

To be frank, if she didn't know Atalanta as well as she did know… perhaps in the near future, they could be enemies, instead of fellow wives of a wonderful man.

Medusa popped her head over the table – her current height meaning she had to adorably stand on her tiptoes just to read the documents on the table – with curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "Is there a problem in Colchis?"

Medea looked over to where the young girl was usually seated. Naturally, her chair had been boosted with several pillows to allow Medusa to actually do some work, but it laid empty now that its occupant was here at Medea's table. "W-Well… because of what happened with Atalanta's father, and the rumors of the disappearances among the ruling class in both Iolchos and Colchis, I fear for his well-being. We know our opponent this time was crafty."

The little girl nodded, though that action merely made her chubby cheeks puffed out after her jaw pressed repeatedly against the tabletop.

Medea felt an itch in her fingers. An itch to hug.

* * *

"The Olympic Games?"

\- BAM!

"Yeah! It'll be the biggest shit in town! Are you invited to participate?" Herakles boisterously slams his bowl of soup down, having invited me over for lunch at his house. "Oh, I'm sorry – the life of a newlywed must be more interesting than some stinky, sweaty sports event, right?"

I feel one of my eyes twitching in irritation, but Megara soon arrives with another small dish and slaps her husband behind the head for his comment.

Naturally, this berserker of a man doesn't even register the act because of his current level of excitement, simply smiling sheepishly at his wife before speaking to me once again, even though there's no way I can reply because I'm still chewing a piece of stewed pheasant, "Colchis has generously opened its reclusive doors for all capable people! It even provided invitees with a detailed and blessed map to its domain – and as you must know, the way there is treacherous even for the most hardened crews!"

'_You know nothing…'_ I grumble inwardly, though still keeping my composure out of respect to the lady of the house, who's eyeing the two of us from the kitchen. Naturally, I shouldn't disclose the matter of the actual _Argo_'s treacherous voyage to Colchis, because Herakles experienced several personal losses in historical canon which drove a wedge between him and Jason. "I see."

The large man shakes his head, finally getting my current thoughts. "Hmph… Scheme all you want, like usual. I won't be there to bail you out every time!"

'_When have you actually done so? Helpfully?' _I snark back in my head, though I busy myself with chowing so my venomous mouth won't say anything untoward. Outside, things were different. I'm under his and Megara's hospitality now, so I shouldn't make a scene. "You sound interested in participating. Are you going swimming again?"

A monstrous killing intent erupts from Herakles, as the memory of Atlantis's siege replays across his eyes. "Shut the fuck up."

"Language!" Megara's voice immediately harks back, warning him his children can hear him just fine.

He waves his arm roughly at her, though he manages to refrain from making any further rude gestures. "What's your point?" He asks grumpily, eyeing me with caution.

"Can't say yet until I know everything."

"Even then, you won't tell anyone anything!" He argues… which sounds correct. "Stop bullshitting!"

"Then, answer a few questions from me calmly. This is a lunch, after all; I don't need your usual boisterousness in the Guild. Do you think that kind of thing is still in vogue nowadays? The youngsters just look at you like you're insane," I point out harshly, as Megara giggles in the background. "However, going back to the topic, do you think it's a coincidence Colchis is finally opening its doors _now_? Without any precedence or pressure?"

"People change, you know. And that includes kingdoms," Herakles casually answers, loudly slurping his soup in-between phrases. "Not everything needs to have a reason, you know. 'Coincidence' is as good an excuse as any."

"As good, yes, but not as acceptable." I nod my head at Megara's desert, as she gracefully replaces the used utensils with a new set. A chilled and candied fruit set. How novel. "Especially to people like us."

"Hmm…"

As Herakles groans in thought, I use the time to evaluate Megara's cooking. Course meal was uncommon in the current era, with only a select individuals even privy to the custom. Usually, not even rulers employ this method in small banquets, as the buffet-style was far more ingrained in the culture and their own upbringing. After all, it's too much of a hassle cooking course after course of food and drink step-by-step, instead of doing and serving everything at once, even with the help of Thaumaturgy. It's more apparent if the lady of the house herself was cooking, and while she's a skilled cook, Megara…

Well, she's not _me_.

However, for what I infer to be one of her first few attempts at constructing this kind of dining experience, she'd done a fine job. Pushing new concepts as the wife of a popular public figure is never an easy decision to make, because much as the current Greece respects women, any wrongdoings on her part will be taken advantage by her husband's and family's detractors. Such is the political life of a spouse, male or female.

Perhaps I can coach her for future attempts? It's not like Herakles will be around all the time…

Ah, I think that sentence can be interpreted wrongly. First of all, Megara's not my type, purely from a physical point of view. Hey, Heroic Vessels are allowed to have preferences, okay? However, we mostly grow our relationship with others through mental and spiritual aspects, and for me, this woman too is rather lacking in these attributes. While she's a good match for Herakles, she won't do for me.

As to whether I'll actually take someone else's wife if I have the chance… I'll leave that problem to Future!SHIRŌ, because I'm not interested in tackling a problem which hasn't presented itself to me yet. Later on, I will have grown some more, and perhaps will gain some more relevant perspective as to what I will and should do.

I mean… who cares? I have a loving and completely satisfactory marriage life now – why will I want to change that? While I am blessed with understanding women, any new additions will need their approval and permission – and that's not even including the research I must do to ensure they can all get along together.

In this aspect, even my previous flings aren't necessarily suitable, like Hippolyta or Circe. Or many other girls…

…maybe I've played around too much in the past?

Yeah, how hypocritical of me to criticize Herakles's reckless behavior, right? After all, dealing with injuries as 'collateral damage' is easier than dealing with newborn babies and pregnant ladies, right?

I fight the urge to pinch my nose and groan out the sudden frustration blooming inside me.

Meanwhile, Herakles finally comes to a decision.

"Then I'll be your inside man. How about that? I have the confidence to 'not die', so I'm a good candidate, right?" The tall man bangs on his chest, full of pride… as if that's something which one can boast about freely. "Beats having any other one of your colleagues, right? Oh, I forgot… You don't have any! BWAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!"

\- Pak!

"You're being rude," Megara chastises, having finished her cooking duties and joining us on the table. "Besides, 'colleagues' and 'comrades' are completely different things!"

"That's exactly my point, dear," he grins, not even feeling the slap at the back of his head just now. "All this guy has is extremes of different positions: precious comrades, or enemies. There's no in-between – I mean, despite his personality, I'm sure he treasures me very much, too!"

"Alright, I have to admit that's disgusting."

Megara hums approvingly of my comment, seemingly to have thought up a similar barb of her own.

"Anyway!" He forcibly continues, "Therefore, he can't – or won't – allow those around him to endanger themselves, because he's _way_ too overprotective. That's why he trains himself until this point: so he can afford to be that way. Am I right?"

I shrug, not wanting to commit to an answer, but the wise Megara catches on my intentions quite quickly.

"No matter how correct you are, is this something you should discuss over the dining table? How about talking about my cooking instead, hm? How do you find the experience, dear?"

"Ah… Well, it's quite sudden, so…"

I have to admit, seeing the usually overconfident bruiser stumble for words isn't something one can quickly get bored of.

* * *

Compared to other city-states, Colchis could be described in one word: extravagance. Not only did their royal palace, capital city, major ports and business hubs were lavished with excessive amounts of gold, their study of precious metallurgy, processing, distribution, and design was the best across Mycenaean Greece was unparalleled. People who had the fortune to visit there always described the place as 'elegantly gaudy', which was as close an adjective as human language could get.

As a result, its human capital, too, was highly sought after. Clients who could afford the riches Colchis could produce didn't necessarily know how to use them as efficiently or effectively as natives who're living and breathing it since they were small. The future Hellenistic states would be a loyal customer, giving Colchis a lifeline through the transition between the destruction of Greek culture and the enforced Roman one, though that wouldn't last long before the Roman Empire flattened everything to the ground.

Therefore, Medea's self-description of her home as a 'gilded cage' wasn't necessarily wrong – in fact, it's frighteningly accurate and literal. While most of its inhabitants didn't share her sentiments, the first part of that phrase was quite real – after all, who wouldn't envy the life of a princess, despite how every member of the royal family explained it's far more complicated than what they dreamt of?

With the entire territory shining with splendor matching the sun, it's no wonder the Olympian Helios, God of the [Sun], favored them somewhat. It's well-known the royal family descended straight from his bloodline, though unfortunately, they didn't exhibit enough talent to use his Authorities, in the form of Domains, like most other demigods. In fact, Medea had been their most outstanding member in terms of divine affinity, but even she suited Hecate's teachings and inheritance more than Helios – meaning her in-born ability was nothing more than chance, just like other champions who suddenly earned favor with their future patron deities.

Thus, it's not strange seeing him in the private royal temple hall, a place where important and blessed individuals were able to request more personal conversations with their patron deities. Because of their ancestry, the Colchis's version was dedicated to Helios, though there certainly were other major temples located in the capital for other, more popular deities.

Absyrtus was kneeling with both palms touching the ground, though his back was more upright than a prostrating figure would suggest, enabling him to stare at the non-humanoid deity with his own eyes.

Now, normally, such feat would be fatal for those who accidentally did so, as staring right at the embodiment of the [Sun] at such close proximity would suggest. However, with Helios appearing in his spherical form to reduce the pressure the universe exerted on him in the mortal plane, it's significantly reduced into a welcoming warm glow – the light of [Life], derived from the Protogenoi χάος of the [Void]. Lately, with the increasing gap appearing between the two worlds, Helios preferred this form because he could also double-duty as the sun. there's no sense in working overtime if it's unnecessary – which was why he was particularly annoyed by the summer's solstice, a day where he had to work the longest.

How his sister adored the winter's solstice was beyond his understanding.

"Hmm… This eminence has to admit, this idea from Lord Zeus was unusual for his character." Under Absyrtus's curious gaze, Helios continued, "Esteemed Hera is also uncontactable, as is Ares. Perhaps… this has something to do with your brother-in-law as well."

The acting ruler of Colchis nodded, having already suspected this to occur. The political situation around Greece was just too strange, too outlandishly chaotic to happen naturally as a result of the passage of time. Given his father was also one of the 'casualties', at the very least, he had to secure this ancestor's blessing and backing… for Colchis, if not for his family.

Those words made his mind wander towards the image of his lovely sister.

Unlike their close neighbor Amazon, Colchis was quite patriarchal. Their mother was one of many – fortunately for the two of them, they were the most talented among their half-siblings, legitimate or otherwise, thus their position in the royal court was never in doubt.

In that arena of political chess games and silent backstabbing, Medea was the one true family he had.

He felt sorry for his mother, who couldn't experience how a real family should behave because of her heritage. Their father had a clear line of divine ancestry to Helios, and their mother descended straight from Okeanos, the Titan who was the successor of Protogenoi of the [Sea], Pontus. Then… why was her children bereft of any divine qualities?

In a patriarchal society, no matter how faint, the blame would first lay on the mother.

Inadequate. Traitor. Embarrassment. Failure.

Such words drowned Idyia with intangible substances she'd never known, leading to her taking her own life in front of her children.

He could still remember vividly Medea's ultra-tight grip, almost fatal in nature, as she attempted to shield him from the sight and act.

Other than that, he couldn't remember much. Whether that's fortunate or not… he still couldn't decide even until now. Was it good to prevent that trauma to affect him, potentially leading to the ruin of Colchis's future, as he's its crown prince? Or was it heretical and unfilial, for casting aside their mother's last legacy for them?

Not that their father cared much. No matter how good he or Medea was, the fact they couldn't produce even a shred of Helios's or Okeanos's powers merely reminded him of his own failure.

Like them, Æëtes was the 'mere mortal' out of Helios's descendants. Not the only one, for sure, but certainly the most high-profile, given his status. While most rulers and monarchs – his contemporaries – also exhibited very little supernatural inclinations, as if the price for the talent of administration was exactly that, his pride and shame took the better of him.

He should be special. He should be _better_.

And if he couldn't do it, then his children should replace him to become that beacon of admiration and worship.

In a twisted way, that's why he locked Medea inside the royal palace: to nurture the 'perfect' being to be presented to the public. To show that even though she's merely cattle, ready to be wed at the best available opportunity… it's a prime, exclusive breed they're getting.

This was why he didn't report Circe's 'kidnapping' of Medea to their father, even though he knew of the deed far before it's revealed.

The only thing about it was the fact Medea's chance of receiving a proper, official wedding wouldn't happen until their father suddenly had a change of heart… or had his heart removed altogether. Preferably along with his head too.

To be frank, Absyrtus had very little negative opinion of Æëtes as a man. The fact the latter managed to develop and push Colchis to its current glamorous state spoke enough volumes of his ability as a man of the state. It's always easy to squander and difficult to save, invest, and actually make profit. The balance between exclusivity and isolation was a thin line to maintain, and Æëtes played it as best he could.

The former raised Colchis's stature as both a destination and producer in the eyes of the world. The budding Latin and Persian Empires directly bordering its lands were starting to take notice – and Absyrtus was planning to take full advantage of this situation, now that Æëtes wasn't available. The difficult and perilous journey one must undertake to enter its lands without invitation casted a romantic image on Colchis, painting it as a treasure island bursting with profits.

In a way, it's a similar technique to the one he suspected his current brother-in-law employed whenever it concerned Jason's and Pelias's respective public reputations. Of course, this meant neither of them would ever be able to pinpoint and present the evidence this manner of manipulation occurred, so players like them usually stayed out of each other's way whenever convenient.

As usual, though, Helios's thinking wasn't that deep. If there's something strange happening, then get a more experienced and knowledgeable party to investigate. The issue whether the act itself should be public or hidden was another matter entirely – all which was important to him was the results. So long as he could 'optimize' his efforts to gain the maximum benefit, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

Besides, he's a god. Who could realistically threaten him? Olympus had reached a stability not found in their predecessors – there's no reason to antagonize each other deliberately behind the scenes. Why should he be bothered by the machinations of a mortal?

Indeed, it's a sentiment shared instinctively by all Olympians, despite some of their members actively trying to subvert this through their personal character developments. Athena, Artemis, Hestia, and deities with similar temperaments were pushing themselves through this ordeal lately, as their favored mortals began to influence them. Again, not something Helios was particularly opposed of – if that didn't concern him directly, he wouldn't think much about it.

Given the current fractured state of Olympus, perhaps he should care more… But this event was something Zeus ordered. Helios did see the value in a festival like the Olympic Games: an event to honor the name of 'Olympus' and the Olympians, by showcasing the mortals they nurtured after all this time competing against themselves. Striving to reach beyond humanity, battling to race towards the peak…

…only to be slammed back down to earth as they realized the distance between mortality and divinity was insurmountable.

To these deities, the word 'nurture' was no more than taking care of cattle out of responsibility. The sense of 'affection' was missing even until now in certain individual gods, because the common sense and living environment was so different from the start.

This wasn't even including the Olympians' origins, which was considerably different than humanity's.

Therefore, for Helios, questioning the current acting king of Colchis was merely a form of entertainment… because he's bored. Why not listen to the words of the workers actually building up the event? After all, he's got nothing better to do. Perhaps there would be something of interest to him, simply from the sheer scale of the first iteration of this event planned.

"Will he be attending? That son of Iolchos; your brother-in-law?" He asked casually, not particularly caring of Absyrtus's casual behavior in his prostration. "If so, perhaps this event holds something more than meets the eye."

It was simple deduction, yet often times, humans heard of this with awe and respect. Really? With such a small thing, they're already impressed and happy? How easy…

Why he allowed this young man – barely out of his teens – to stand in his presence in such a way was because he's smart. He knew how to tread the fine line between disrespect and mutual conversation, always erring towards the latter to boost Helios's thin ego. The god didn't like to place himself in the same category as the more arrogant one, such as Zeus – though he wouldn't admit it – so he mostly saw himself as Absyrtus's mentor.

"Apologies, esteemed Helios. I haven't heard word from my sister yet, but considering Lord Jason's temperament, perhaps this event indeed interests him," the young man suggested. "Will you be gracing us with your presence as well?"

"Wasn't the sponsorship matters resolved with Lord Zeus's backing? Why are you still asking this futile question?"

"Merely confirmation, milord."

Helios nodded. "Keep up the good work. I shall… return to my duties."

Most people wouldn't think much of the pause in-between the words, but Absyrtus knew what its subtle meaning was.

'_He's about to slack off again, wasn't he?'_


	36. Hunger Play

**Heya, everyone! Long time no see! As you might've predicted, the excuse this time is still the new job. Aside from that, I was swamped with house chores now that my cleaner wasn't allowed to travel to my house due to government regulations, so my writing time was severely limited.**

**...alright, some new games might've taken away even more of that time, but who's counting?**

**Anyway, been greatly disappointed TYPE-MOON didn't follow what some American movie studios and release Heaven's Feel III online. Free or paid, I think that's the best move to salvage whatever remains of that industry. I know this sounds like a complaint from a self-entitled fan, but I simply don't see a concrete reason blocking them from doing it this way. Do you guys agree? And have an opinion which can change mine?**

**Now, some announcement regarding the story (finally!): This will be the start of the final few chapters. I have some surprises for you guys, as I'm finally implementing the changes I've been wanting to do since HV-S01: RKR finished. That story was clearly too long, and I don't want to do the same with this one. Thank you for being with me all this time, and look forward to the super-long epilogue I've been cooking up! **

**And, after a long break, the mailbag is back!  
SolarxBlack: If we're talking about 'possibility', then certainly yes. However, that's still a long way away, since I'm sticking to a rough chronological order of history, both for the proper SHIROU stories and future crossovers.**

* * *

An all-expenses paid holiday could bring forth differing reactions from the recipients across the time allotted, because it solely depended on how they perceived idleness.

For most hard-working citizens, it's a welcome respite in-between the hard days of labor and chores. In fact, the bonuses paid was often enough to hire those _not_ in holiday, so they could serve as assistants to the recipients and letting the latter truly relax and enjoy themselves. The effect would be more profound the more responsibility they wielded – for instance, it's something every ruler or monarch could only dream of, such was the scale of their duties it's potentially life-threatening for their citizens if they actually had vacations.

While Greece's most recent administrative developments allowed talented retainers to be sourced from lower-class citizens, their number was far too few to be able to handle everything a large _poleis_ could throw at them in the absence of their highest superior. It's not the fear of losing popularity of the masses, but the worry their rule would instantly disintegrate without their presence was what caused them to hesitate.

However, the same intensity could also be applied to those feeling the opposite. The sense of loss, of confusion, for idleness, having dedicated their lives to pursuing and perfecting a particular art. These people didn't differentiate their occupation from their love in life – to them, they _were_ them, in a sense they became a living embodiment of their craft. A vacation to these people was testament to torture, as they couldn't help but see everything around them as elements for their projects, both personal and business.

Hecate clearly was the latter, as Nyneve could attest.

"2nd year, 5th month, 22nd day: Subject still refused to participate in the experiment."

Even though Hecate was technically murmuring to herself, in this realm, nothing went past Nyneve's ears. Each word sent shivers down the Lady of the Lake's spine… for exactly that amount of time the Greek Goddess of [Magic] had uttered.

"Attempting coercive method: strong sedative."

\- Shuffle. Shuffle. Shuffle.

The small girl appeared to rummage around inside her robe for quite some time, with her back facing the nervous Nyneve. Soon, Hecate turned around and offered a small round chocolate ball on her open palm to the Lady of the Lake.

To be honest, it looked quite appetizing.

"**Like I'll fall for that trick! Throw that thing away!"**

Hecate's expression flickered momentarily, before she dissipated the object with a wave of her hand. "Note: Attempt subterfuge in the future. Possible optimum time: slumber."

Once again, it's nothing more than a whisper, but in Avalon, Hecate might've just spoken that out loud, screaming, to Nyneve directly.

The Greek goddess turned absent-mindedly to one side, no doubt concocting another attempt to vivisect Nyneve to study. She could see the smaller girl's eyes glazing over in thought, for once not directing those clear, innocent, wide eyes onto Nyneve's marbled dark form… like a child who's thinking of taking apart a particularly beautiful insect.

Hecate was simply _bored_. This reason, Nyneve understood very well, though she herself rarely felt the sensation because there's so many things going on outside of Avalon to be entertained by.

For one, the smaller girl didn't even take interest in those things, but the fundamental constituents of them. What made them possible? How were they born? Could they be recreated? Which part should be improved?

These were the questions constantly whirling around in Hecate's mind, befitting that of a magus's. Or, rather, it's precisely _because_ she's like this – as the progenitor of current Thaumaturgy – that everybody else mimicked her in hope of receiving even a shred of her talent, powers, and Authorities.

Unfortunately, it's not the work of several days, months, or even years. It took generations after generations to ingrain this method of thinking – no, of _living_ – into the very essence of the magi's souls: to seek knowledge and trial improvements, because nothing was perfect. Nothing _should_ be perfect, because it indicated stagnation, and eventually, [Death].

This was why Hecate and Thanatos didn't particularly get along. While they rarely met, their very nature opposed each other: one of [Motion], and the other of [Stillness] – two tenets derived from χάος at the beginning. She didn't know who her predecessor was, but she was already born with this duty from the [Void], via the combination of [Infinite] and [Nothing] – as most deities were. Given the fact the current generation didn't get along _at all _with the previous one, this was one aspect Hecate would gladly not study in the future.

Perhaps her students could get to the bottom of this later? After all, it's not her top priority to study advanced alien life, and one so far above their own Conceptual Weight they wielded the Authority of [Creation] wantonly. Normally, it's an Authority restricted to a select few deities – the chief patron of [Life], the supervisor of a given world, and the head deity. However, the Protogenoi before the Titans _all_ had this ability, showcasing their frightening tendency to shape the world as they pleased.

From the deepest reaches of the universe, to the wandering alien lords, to the birth of the local rulers of a given living planetary system, infesting the Ultimate Ones they chose. Or were the latter similar to the first? Were those progenitors merely Ultimate Ones from a sufficiently powerful bodily phenomenon, capable of bending the laws however they wanted?

It's the duty of her, the [Trinity], and those who learned under her, to unveil as much Mystery as possible and harness it. People might be frightened regarding the relative finiteness of it, thinking the more it disseminated, the lesser the power they could wield.

Fools. There was no way they could even begin to fathom the principles of [Infinite] and [Nothing], where there were no perceivable limits in those aspects. Why would they worry about such petty things with their puny lives? If there wasn't enough of one particular thing, then study how to make the situation better. Could they harvest more? Should they look at a different avenue? How could they make things more efficient and effective, to the point of a bottleneck?

Without this mindset, truly, humanity was doomed to be slaves to their own desires, never mind the beings standing over their existence.

Therefore, now that she's been presented with the opportunity to live in another dimension, she should do her utmost to understand things.

Starting from the ruler's body.

\- Shuffle. Shuffle. Shuffle.

Her long white robe and large hat waved in the comforting cool wind, but her fingers were moving in a way which they clearly _weren't._

"Now, Miss Nyneve, please stay still…"

"**Get away from me! Sir SHIRŌŌŌŌŌŌ! HEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLPPP!"**

* * *

Unusually, the Adventurers' Guild wasn't being swamped by requests, as it was throughout its existence. Of course, it had its downtime, but even on that period, they were always short on capable people to complete tasks, both the adventurers and the staffs. While they gave out large benefits to those they hire, the most lucrative intangibles Chiron offered was the responsibility and due diligence the Guild took before they took the first step to address and work with anyone.

That was why even the wildest scum held the centaur in high respect. They didn't necessarily like him, agree with his methods, or place him in a special corner in their hearts. However begrudging it was, they had to admit he was the single most influential individual in Greece who constantly stayed in the mortal realm, beyond those rulers and monarchs of various _polis_.

But, today, Chiron frowned as he analyzed the various reports laid out on his table.

They all indicated one thing: Nobody's hiring adventurers, at least temporarily.

Oh, he heard of the large-scale festival Colchis was about to hold, under 'divine mandate' from Zeus. It's going to be the biggest Greece had ever had, as the first truly international competition between mortals.

Logically speaking, constructing such an event to the level the Olympians could be satisfied of would require tremendous highly-skilled manpower in all aspects of its design. Inevitably, the adventurers _should_ be called, either as the people directly involved in the project, contractors, or second-phase workers. Given they came from various walks of life, the Guild offered its clients the greatest possible variety of able hands…

…so, why was no one hiring them to be involved in Colchis?

The kingdom's sudden decision to open its trade routes and doors was shocking enough, after many generations of both inadvertent and intentional isolation, but this?

He had lived a long life, which was why he could smell trouble from miles away without stepping one hoof out of his office. As always, Shirō was playing his secretive game, and there's no way Atalanta would do anything against her husband – besides, she had attained a status beyond what Chiron could officially affect, anyway. Despite only reigning for a short while, her immense popularity combined with the groundwork laid out by her father beforehand meant Arcadia's national strength grew greatly, perhaps only half a step away from matching Athens, Thebes, and Sparta as military superpowers.

Of course, those three noticed this at the same time, or perhaps even earlier, than him, and had prepared accordingly. A large-scale chess game had commenced the instant Atalanta's wedding took place, with its preparation stretching far beyond that – to the era of the last _makhia_. However, Shirō placed the three of them in a deadlock through sheer brute force, as the definitely-intentionally leaked information regarding what truly happened at Atlantis indicated.

Truth be told, not even Chiron or Herakles had grasped the entirety of that young man's strength.

Judging one's strength was far more complicated than calculating it from two or three different parameters, simply because of its intangibility. Physical power could be measured. Pain tolerance could be measured. Outright raw speed and peak acceleration could be measured. However, even those three combined couldn't precisely be described as a person's complete 'strength', because of the influence of the mind and spirit in it.

And that included how one reacted under pressure or threats, both to themselves and their loved ones. _This_ parameter housed many different and crucial data points on its own, which was quite impossible to predict even with the aid of Thaumaturgy.

Perhaps Hecate could've measured it, but she had never shown any intentions of pursuing this branch of knowledge. Neither did her two main students, too, and one of them was literally by Shirō's side, taking the same guarded stance against those who'd antagonize the charming young man.

Really, what's so good about him? He's physically attractive, yes, but not overly so – certainly not at the level of those beautiful men blessed, or cursed, by their patron deities. Overall, Shirō was… normal-looking, Chiron guessed? In an era where one could find an inhuman trait in an individual every few dozen yards, he's actually quite unremarkable. Even his copper-red hair wasn't an uncommon trait.

Certainly, when compared to the otherworldly – some might say 'divine', even – beauty of his wives, there's quite a bit of a physical mismatch there. Plus, they're all petite, fragile-looking flowers – certainly not suitable pairings for the rather tall and muscular young man.

Oh, those women had their own legions of fans, no doubt – even Medusa, who was only recently introduced to human civilization. Apparently, her petite body and adorable series of expressions whenever teased had become sort of an urban legend among the young men of Greece, especially when word got out Poseidon once coveted her. _Another_ rumor got out that's why the _Argo_ stormed Atlantis – a showcase humans weren't willing to become simple playthings of the gods, subject to their every whim.

Poseidon desired a woman? Then he had to fight for her, same as with any other man, mortal or not.

Somehow, Athena's involvement in the raid was minimized, to the point people hailed the _Argo_ as the champion against the tyrannical and unreasonable God of the [Sea].

This was also another issue Chiron didn't see any resolution near the horizon.

This past year had been a restless one for Poseidon's priests and priestesses, chiefly for their efforts of public assurance and control. Naturally, Greece relied a lot on their maritime resources, and the absence of the God of the [Sea] – they weren't prepared to release the information of his 'death' yet – caused many sailors to initially refuse to do business. Therefore, for a short while, trades were stopped completely, with incredible amounts of incurring debt and stuck produces racking up quickly.

However, after a few months had passed – no, perhaps earlier than that – no earthquakes, tsunami, equestrian rampages, etc. happened, people started regaining confidence. Perhaps another deity had taken over managing Poseidon's related Authorities? Perhaps the god himself was still alive, but dormant somewhere, allowing automated passive systems to take over his tasks? Either way, in the short time where no ships dared sail, Arcadia had developed its next generation fleet, ready to brave the oceans just a few days prior to the first ships from other places did.

It might not have been much, but those first precious days of head start compounded its effects as the weeks and months passed by, allowing quality, limited fresh produces from Arcadia's lush environment to saturate the market just enough to hike up demand. Crucially, its fleets were equipped with high-class, complicated preservation Thaumaturgy, allowing customers – those who could afford it – to enjoy things as fresh as they came out of the necessary basic processes.

There's no doubt among those in the know this was Medea's work, as only she now held the key to Hecate's vast amount of divine knowledge and skill. Her senior apprentice, Circe, had gone into seclusion, with no one able to locate her island at present, giving Arcadia an incredible economic advantage all of a sudden.

Chiron could only sigh. Must Shirō cause problems for him whatever that young man did? Not to lambast Atalanta, but there's no way someone of her nature and intelligence would be able to seize this opportunity and capitalize on it in this manner… because the period of fleet development and Æëtes's rule-cum-disappearance overlapped.

Which meant Shirō already had someone deep in the Arcadian court to prepare the first steps to Atalanta's coronation, as well as her subsequent few first policies. This was clearly the most important: a showcase of Arcadian wealth to the world.

Did Chiron have evidence of this? Absolutely not. That S-Ranker was too good to leave loose ends, and especially wary of people of the centaur's capabilities and reach. Of course, this, too, was speculation, as Shirō had never been anything other than polite, affable, and just in front of the Guild Master. He wasn't hard to handle like Atalanta, or a piece of walking political disastrous bait like Medea, or a dormant tykebomb capable of flattening Mycenae if triggered like Medusa, even when they first met – when he's barely a kid coming into his teenage years, and him an established senior citizen.

He wasn't worried Shirō would become the next villain to unify Greece to oppose him. There were many in the past: the Protogenoi, the Titans… Always a subject for humanity to antagonize, so they could worship the Olympians more and empower them for the safety they provided. Shirō would always had the interests of humanity, and its prosperity, at heart. This, Chiron was absolutely sure.

But he couldn't help but worry for the next generations of heroes. What kind of world would they live in, fight with, and died against? A place where a patriarchal circle of murder and vengeance perpetuated itself for eternity? Or an era ushered forth by this unassuming redheaded man, where all preconceived notions would be broken down, analyzed, and rebuilt into something new?

Humanity wasn't necessarily accepting of change, even though deep inside they realized it's for the better. [Stagnation] was in their nature, and unfortunately, it more often than not outweighed the attribute of [Innovation] also in-built within them – both remnants of χάος permeating the universe.

What kind of individual could bring forth a cosmic change across an entire species? Just like a lethal parasite, where one mutation was enough to propagate infinitely fast and silent, until its host didn't even realize the changes to their own body.

A deity capable of infiltrating, manipulating, and changing the human conscious.

No, Jason wasn't this _thing_. But his currently-unknown patron deity must have a connection to this phenomenon, if not the one outright responsible for it.

\- Knock. Knock.

"Come in," he calmly called out to the sudden door knocks. When he saw who entered, he smiled teasingly, "I expected you to blow the door of the hinges, boy."

"Hmph…" Achilles grumbled, his body dirty and full of scratches, though none appeared to be lethal. "Spare me your jokes, teacher."

At the very least, this green-haired boy had enough manners to stand up, instead of plopping down and dirtying Chiron's furniture.

Completely unlike another green-haired person the centaur knew… who's now a queen…

That thought made him dread the incoming headache, almost making him instinctively reach for the hidden stash of alcohol he stored in a hidden compartment in his table in front of his latest protégé.

* * *

More and more often, the Arcadian royal kitchen staff is getting bolder in their questions towards me whenever I take over and make dinner for my wives.

Originally, the first day I was here was greeted with a healthy mix of incredulousness, surprise, skepticism, and some other emotions from their eyes. It's natural – after all, never before in their lives they've heard of an actual king, whether a ruler or just a consort like me, _cooking_. While Greece has a deep culinary history and a strong culture, it's still seen as a menial task suitable only for the weaker, feebler, and most importantly, of the female sex. Unlike modern times, when the standards of culinary arts have grown to a point it becomes a much more physical and mental occupation that males are starting to be the expected sex in the kitchen, the patriarchal culture is still strong in this era.

Especially with me doing a recipe never before seen by the public eye.

Unlike the era where 'Shirō Emiya' is born in, there's no need of showcasing one's achievements and skill in cooking… because it won't change much, and ends up being a waste of time and energy. In Mycenaean Greece, where might is right, it's more beneficial to conquer passively with arms rather than intelligence or other subtler skills.

Atalanta's favorite apple pie… upgraded.

Our previous home in the forest had plenty of natural produce, yes, but they may've been… _too_ natural. There's a reason why selective breeding lasts for so long into the future, even though scientific research points out it's not healthy for the natural evolution of crops, because once people taste what the optimum taste of something, they'll desire it greatly over and over again, natural selection be damned. They demand the sweetest, the largest, the freshest, the juiciest, and many other superlatives on their plates, which is also why movements to go back to natural variety, instead of selected breeds, are growing far too slowly for my liking.

The apples we get from the virgin forest we live in have incredible tartness and sharpness, but rarely enough sweetness or size to make the dish I want without compromising with using too many spices. Of course, it meant the apple pies I baked previously only used natural methods and ingredients, such as cooking in an underground oven made from dug-out earth, incorporating fragrant leaves and chunky plant hearts to bolster the filling, extracting butter from the husks of various fruits, etc.

The one I'm making right now can be considered 'classic' by modern standards, but completely alien to the people in this era, who're used to the methods I just described. Even in the royal kitchens around the world, it's almost expected for a cook to avoid changing a main ingredient's natural flavor and texture too much, partly due to the culture of presenting every dish as a sacrifice and showcase to the gods.

Now that my wife is rich and politically powerful, it'll be a waste not to abuse that to my heart's content, right?

Commanding workers and artisans to modify the kitchen and create tools to my design, and mine only. Importing goods from far away, while pushing for the cultivation of mistreated plants and animals locally. Gathering and copying documents from various city-states, villages, and palaces to create a library matching Alexandria's grand one, but focused on food.

The fact Arcadia becomes wealthy incredibly quickly only serves to justify my actions, no matter how unintentional it is. I mean, I only intended for us to break even, but hey, I'll take it.

Perhaps I should as Acastus to invest in similar things in Iolchos as well? There's no doubt Pelias has already turned tail, either manipulated or not, so any obstacles for me is gone. Speaking of which, do my parents want to return home? I may not be able to place them back to the royal throne they were taken away from, but I can guarantee they'll be able to live peacefully until their end times in the land they have such a high attachment to.

Regardless, I better focus on the task at hand, if I want to make this perfect.

More for myself than Atalanta, or my other wives, to be honest. Why settle for an imperfect result when I know full well it's within my capacity to produce an unblemished product?

"Your Majesty, what's the purpose of using so much lard?" One of the palace maids asks, having squeezed her way through the crowd populated by mostly kitchen staff. "Won't the taste be too… gamey and heavy?"

I'm glad I've integrated myself very well with the workers around me, because if it's anyone else with traditional views and background, her question will most certainly face severe punishment – maybe even execution. I think it's not disrespect, but a healthy curiosity from a young person.

She's cute, too, according to Mycenaean Greece's standards. Of course, she's not at the level of my wives, whose beauty transcends cultures and eras – and even mortality, if Poseidon's inclinations were anything to speak of.

"The main thing is to prevent the crust from sticking to the container we're using. Therefore, untreated lard is still suitable. Naturally, the ones I use in the ingredients themselves are processed according to my methods. I'll teach you guys later," I patiently explain. "Also, because the lard is in direct contact with our heat source, there's nothing standing between the gaminess and blood with the charcoals, and thus they burn off easily, leaving only the pleasing aroma. For Atalanta – Her Majesty, I mean – whose senses are far sharper than normal, every little detail counts, because she can enjoy it more than your average person."

While the palace maid was blushing the entire time I was explaining intensely to her, she tensed up when I mentioned the queen's name. It also seems most of the people here share her current state of mind, since even though girls all admire me – narcissistic thought unintentional – they're even more afraid of Atalanta to truly do anything overt.

She has demonstrated time and again she can hear and smell me cooking from her royal chamber, which is traditionally located as far away from places like the kitchen and stables as possible.

Pastry making has been practiced around this area for more than two millennia, from the times of the ancient pharaohs to the rulers of Sumer. Gilgamesh liked it too, when I recreated it using ingredients found in her era, even though it's not a dish supposedly born at that time. Perhaps one of those instances got recorded in a stone tablet and passed down to future chefs, enabling the Greeks nowadays to enjoy pies much earlier and in more sophisticated form?

Now, that's a change of fate I can get behind with.

"Here, try a spare piece."

I carefully scoop out a small part and move my hand as to feed her with my own fingers, thinking it's best if she tries it rather than constantly asking me questions.

…until a violet missile slams into that very hand, devouring the pie piece in one breath.

I know Medusa has the [Serpent] attribute, but isn't her jaw opening a bit _too_ wide? I'm not sure even king cobras can dislocate their mandibles that big…

…because my entire hand is now inside her cheeks, as opposed to the more romantic scene of a boy sweetly feeding a girl her treats through his hands.

Like a piranha, she has leapt from the kitchen's periphery – attracted by the smell of my cooking – right into my offending limb, eager to snatch the first bite before anyone else.

\- Munch… Munch… Gulp.

"Er… can you let go of my hand, my lovely wife?"

\- Grr…

Like a cute puppy being denied her toy, she puffs out her cheeks – with my hand still inside – and vigorously shakes her head. The strength in her neck and jaw muscles is such I have no doubt a normal human being will have their arm ripped right off its socket, but in her childish tantrum, she seems to have forgotten her actual strength.

"Ah… are you jealous you're not the first one to taste?" I guess, evaluating her body language and the negative emotion outpouring out of her petite body.

Despite her current mental age supposedly vastly over her physical one, because of her stunt against Ars Theurgia, it appears she's not above using her adorable appearance to endear herself to the populace, up to including acting like a pampered child.

Which, I must add, is actually incredibly appropriate, if not for the issue of her _actual_ age, both mentally and physically. Given she was likely born soon after the Olympians first established their reign, she's likely to be older than the current entire mortal population of Greece combined. While her growth was significantly stunted because of the environment she's lived in, her time with me – as well as the connection we built – ensure she's quickly catching up in that department.

Doesn't make her antics in front of me any less adorable, though.

"Alright, alright… I'll leave it to you for quality control, okay?" I reach out with my other hand – still dirty from handling the ingredients, and pat her head.

She doesn't mind the smell and moisture, though, and happily squints while nodding. The prospect of constantly eating any of my failed work seems to have energized her, as she hops up and down in place, much to the cooing of the crowd.

…with my hand still in her mouth.

Really, sometimes I wonder how she can get this devious. Who taught her this way…?

* * *

"Aaahhh…"

Because of her increased workload, Atalanta had taken every opportunity to be spoiled by her family. Faced day by day not by monsters or natural disasters, but mountains of paperwork, meetings, and task delegating, she's completely out of her element. Despite her best efforts to renovate the Arcadian royal palace to fuse it closer to the nature she loved – using the influx of money the kingdom had recently acquired – being in an artificially-constructed confined space stressed her out after some time.

Therefore, whenever her beloved husband was available to feed her, she'd drop every task and simply relax in his lap.

Well, she didn't fit quite as well as when Medusa was doing it, owing to their size differences, but she's slim and petite enough it's still appropriate. The only disturbing thing was her tail being squished in-between her ass cheeks and his crotch, but this was solely due to the intermittent shivers of pleasure the pressure was giving, interrupting her eating time.

Truly, he had never run out of new recipes for her to taste. Even this apple pie was a significantly different iteration than the last one she ate… and she ate _a lot_ of apple pies.

The softness of the filling was surprising, in contrast to the extra-crispy crust fighting against her teeth and rough tongue, indicating the apples were probably stewed in some sort of sweet mixture for some time. Usually, cooking wild apples only served to intensify their strange textures, even though they did get sweeter, so he usually compensated with other things to distract her from this weakness.

While her enhanced senses had served her well all her life, safeguarding herself and those she cared about, as well as allowing her to enjoy Shirō's food to the fullest… it's things like this when she began to rethink that opinion.

Oh, he did his best with whatever was around them all the time, creating things far better than any of her attempts, despite her improvements in the cooking department recently. However, skills could only get one so far with subpar ingredients and equipment, and the fact her past home was so saturated in her own Domain it also interfered with the more basic Thaumaturgy Shirō was using in cooking only served to rub the point home.

However, here? In Arcadia's royal palace, situated as per tradition on the most prosperous local leyline? With all ingredients available, either procured locally or imported, and the money to purchase all of those luxuries?

She could only hope she wouldn't get fat.

Still, she's been eating like a wild boar ever since she met Shirō, and her figure barely changed. Surely, that's a good enough reason to pig out whenever and wherever, right?

Medusa agreed with her, copying her eating mannerisms, while Medea squinted in disapproval. It appeared her mortal blood meant the magus could still get fat, somehow – despite the already-established fact practicing Magecraft burnt energy from within the body. Fat magi meant they're either too inefficient in their Thaumaturgy, or truly lazy and gluttonous enough to become a trash of society.

Of course, Medea was neither, so Atalanta didn't really understand her aversion to eating to her heart's content. Surely, that's what nature ordained? For sustenance, grueling efforts were necessary; and now that everything's available, one would unnecessarily abstain?

How curious…

\- Nom…

Even though Medea clearly had no inclination against feeding off Shirō's hands, just like her and Medusa. So, why…?

However, seeing the looks of ecstasy appearing on both of those girls – and one she's sure her face was showing – she let that train of thought slide in order to solely focus on the food at hand.

…or, to be more precise, at her husband's hand, that was.

As always was the case nowadays, in their private time, no matter how humid or warm it was, they'd always choose to snuggle together. At times, Medusa would even revert into her newly-learned serpentine form to engulf all of them together, much to Shirō's laughter at time due to Medea clearly suffering under the weight.

However, they were happy. Far more than they would've been, if what their original fates they gleamed from their husband's knowledge were true.

Now, though, they'd merely set up a low table, congregate around Shirō's side, and enjoy being pampered by him.

Occasionally, these moments were interrupted by the complicated expressions surfacing to his face, betraying his usual insistence of not bothering them with his own stuffs. All three of them were close enough to him to be perceptive of these moments, and initially, they only served to anger the three women.

Weren't they husband and wives? Hadn't they sworn in their hearts and to the universe they'd share everything? Didn't they just spent some time with Shirō's patron deity – Alaya – and even it approved of their presence? So why was he still hesitant in trusting them with his basest thoughts and fears? Shouldn't they face it together, instead of fracturing into individual efforts?

But no.

They'd realize it's the opposite: _They_ couldn't trust him to get the job done. This was simply his way of caring for them, to express how much he loved them – by stupidly shouldering things which would definitely break these happy moments of theirs apart, and leaving nothing but bitter regrets in their places.

Therefore, there's only one thing to do. He's not going to change; they're not going to change – since they'd changed plenty over the past several years – so they did the realistic thing: compromise.

The three women worked to get stronger, enough so he wouldn't worry about them and able to truly enjoy their company. Their victory against Ars Theurgia was a good first step; all they need was to build from that point on. There's no reason to get overly nosy, because that's what's generally accepted in the current era: both husband and wife wouldn't poke their noses into each other's business and responsibility, not because they're estranged, but because they had full trust in each other to manage their own problems effectively and efficiently.

"Aaahhh…"

"Aaahhh…"

"Aaahhh…"

\- Nom, nom, nom…

Like baby birds, they spoiledly opened their mouths and pleaded for Shirō to feed them – this time Medusa played along and pretended she's a docile, cute child, instead of the limb-devouring little monster she was earlier in the kitchen. Initially, Medea was rather shy in participating in these activities – hypocritically, because she greatly enjoyed their orgies, so why not a feeding session? Apparently, the royal table manners taught to her were too deeply ingrained for her to bypass it instantly.

Now, though? She's just as openly spoiled as the rest of them, eliciting a wry smile from the redheaded man.

They'd been at it since the start of the meal, as they're now into the dessert he's been baking – the apple pie… iteration number something-something. There's too many he'd made for Atalanta since the first days they met he'd lost count. This was even tweaked further before this had gotten onto their mouths after Medusa's input… which was to put _a lot_ more lard and fillings, enough to make it nauseatingly fragrant and physically stretched out like a balloon.

Naturally, even this wasn't enough for Atalanta and Medusa, while Medea's more normal portion had made her swoon sleepily due to the amount of sugar and fat contained within it. She laid her head sideways, nuzzling from slightly behind him onto his shoulder, closing her eyes while still opening her mouth, clearly trying to compete with the other two 'animals' in terms of food.

\- Munyu.

After these past few years, it's no longer her head touching him, but also her burgeoning breasts and butt. Much to Atalanta's annoyance, Medea had been quickly filling up, owing to a healthy mix of physical adventuring and Shirō's divine meals. Her lustrous violet hair – one she's proud of even before she left Colchis – had grown longer, nearing Medusa's adult form's serpentine curtain in total length.

Given one of Shirō's wives had finished growing – unfortunately – and the other could barely control her own physical form, it made Medea the most suitable person to head the foreign diplomacy division of Arcadia. It also helped she's actually experienced in dealing with nobles, royalties, and other influential figures, though she tried to play it down because all she did in the past was sit down and do her best to look like a pretty doll.

However, any of the related tasks regarding than went out of the window as she dutifully licked the cream topping off her husband's rugged fingers.

Still, her growth spurt – one much more natural than Medusa's sudden overnight one – made her current outfit completely inappropriate. Her favored dress in private time was her regular translucent purple baby-doll negligee… and it suited her younger, slimmer self just fine. However, now, the area around the chest was filled beyond capacity, nearly bursting, and her added height made the skirt scandalously short. In fact, just sitting right here gave Atalanta and Medusa a good view of her recently-grown pubic hair, as the hem around her thighs lifted up from her squirming around.

"Really, aren't you all eating too much…?" Shirō jovially commented, earning himself several pinches towards the abdomen from his wives.

* * *

"Missing adventurers? Are you sure they're not just… you know, _dead_?" Herakles pointed out semi-sarcastically, keeping his tone rather serious only because of Asclepius's and the others' grave expressions. "That possibility can't be ruled out until we found the body, right? Even then, Thaumaturgy can-"

"Perhaps 'exodus' is a more appropriate term," the taciturn healer cut. "Or 'treason', whichever you prefer."

"Nothing we've never dealt with before, right? Those nobles often sent their own people, but we flushed them out good…"

Asclepius's long hair swayed as he shook his head. "These are people who're better than that. You should've realized this fact the moment you saw this list."

The object he speaking of was pinned underneath one of his dainty, long fingers – perfect for delicate magical surgeries – listing various names and information. Though most of them were forgettable D- and C-Ranked adventurers, several names perked up.

Most notably A-Ranker, Meleager.

While the story of his unrecruited love was rather famous, it got old as quick as any other romantic stories circulating around the Guild. The only interesting thing about him was the fact he's chasing Atalanta, Arcadia's current regent, and the fact her husband was one of such renown quickly killed off any slanderous gossip about this case. So, it hurriedly died off as soon as her marriage was finally announced to the public, some time after the wedding ceremony.

He had been a valuable member of the Guild throughout his career. Even though his background story was… rather boring, to be honest, when compared to Atalanta's sensational childhood, Herakles's multitude of blessings, etc., but those who carefully analyzed his work realized he's just as versatile, powerful, and capable as any person one could find in the Guild.

When groups of low-levelled adventurers disappeared into thin air, there's several speculations: they're dead, deserted, or held captive somewhere. Given the dangerous nature of the job, the former and the latter were more commonly expected. 'Desertion', though, was another matter entirely, whether the involved parties were manipulated or not.

Usually, punishments for that were immediate dismissal from the Guild, along with the revocation of all Guild services provided to said people. Additionally, if somehow they were involved in a criminal activity, then the Guild reserved the right to join in any official or unofficial investigations, sending higher-ranked adventurers as judge, jury, and executioner – depending on the severity of the crime. Generally, the Guild was more severe in its punishments because they didn't have a single formal holding cell for criminals, so they simply left the deserters in others' custodies.

Of course, if enough evidences were provided to show it's not a voluntary desertion, as well as lack of crime perpetrated after they left the Guild, then it would simply wash its hands off the matter and readied itself to welcome them back with open arms after the investigation was finished.

Cold and callous, yes, but a necessity in this savage era, where a god's whims could end the life of a nation in a heartbeat. Look out for oneself and those they cared about, and act appropriately. Do not rely on someone else's mercy, because not even the gods granted it all the time.

B-Rankers and above were… troublesome.

That's what Herakles and Asclepius thought, as the rest of the group slowly filtered into the semi-private area at the back of a Guild branch near the S-Ranker's house.

Well, it's mostly the members of the _Argo_, bar its captain and its wives – _'Surely, they're engaging in acts of debauchery every day and night!'_ Some of the jealous members thought of their absences – but the other core members were present.

Ancaeus, Atalanta's uncle, fresh from finishing the final processes of treating the Calydonian Boar's hide for his niece's gift. Well past his prime, but still incredibly experienced and resourceful – his current dual occupation as both hunter and helmsman was very useful for the crew. A recently-promoted C-Ranked adventurer.

Castor and Pollux, the Dioscuri twins. Fraternal only in sex, but not in appearance. Recently, they'd been training hard after the helplessness they felt against Poseidon, trampling all over the confidence they gained when beating up his minions. Still very young, but clearly talented.

Hylas, Herakles recent assistant. Beautiful beyond compare, he also served as the S-Ranker's lover and bedwarmer in recent journeys. A reliable person despite his age and status, and an eager worker. Typically, Herakles assigned him various important menial tasks he himself didn't have the time to do, slowly teaching him the multiple ways a servant could serve not only his master, but also others.

Peleus, king of Phthia, and the other A-Ranker besides Asclepius present. It seemed his son had recently become Chiron's students, and thus… this father had nothing better to do. Might as well join these group of adventurers and take on his former rank, having had a sabbatical to create a family and settle down his kingdom in the past. Besides, Acastus, Jason's brother and the other supposedly-present Argonaut, was his benefactor.

Theseus, the current king of Athens and friend to Æëtes. Here to hopefully observe what had become of Medea – a girl he considered his own daughter several years ago – after she got married. Alas, she was undoubtedly with her husband right now. To avoid misunderstandings, he came with casual, low-born clothes, so people wouldn't associate his presence with being Æëtes's spy – he could care less of what that overprotective man demanded, despite the latter bringing up 'international relationships' and 'trade relations' and so on.

Fortunately, this Guild branch was accustomed to hosting high-ranked individuals, solely due to the fact Herakles lived nearby. Question his work ethic and social attitude, yes, but not his connections. Despite every wrong thing he'd done, there's no denying his charisma and bravery – two attributes most prized in masculine men and heroes in this age. That's why Hylas so willingly served him with all his body and heart: pure admiration and respect, bordering on love.

Even if people thought Asclepius would've been the one to lead the conversation, it's how Herakles reacted and answered would be the one truly dictating the pace, as well as the response this group would take. After all, determination could only get one so far – power was a necessity to succeed. With one part of the _Argo_ currently occupied with running Arcadia, as well as flirting with each other, Herakles held a good percentage of the crew's total fighting prowess by himself.

"Do you think they'll show up in the upcoming Olympic Games? That's the only event I can think of where the perpetrators can gain maximum leverage…" Herakles mumbled loudly enough to be heard by everyone. "A terrorist attack? But how can an organization sway that many adventurers away from the Guild? Shouldn't Chiron… Guild Master realize this sooner and act?"

Disregarding his _faux pas_ – as the centaur _hated_ to be disrespected in front of other, especially by Herakles, who'd caused enough troubles for him already – Asclepius nodded, adding, "Existing mind control techniques would be insufficient for something of this scale. Given the turmoil happening among the Olympians lately, it's likely the culprit was one of them… or someone else operating at the same level."

The lower-ranked adventurers took longer to process all of these information, simply because they're not as privy to rumors and without connections as wide as their seniors. For instance, most of them didn't even realize a pantheon outside of what they'd known of since a child _existed_, much less having the same strength as the current Olympians. They'd participated in Atlantis's demise, sure, but how about the repercussions of it? Very few among them had grasped the full impact from that incident, both positive and negative ones.

Why hadn't the Olympians taken revenge on Poseidon on humanity? No matter how unpopular a deity was, there's usually at least one sympathetic individual who wreaked chaos whenever their 'partner' met their demise. Though most of the times it's only on the level of pranks, this was relative to _gods_, so usually what happened was a cataclysm among the mortal plane.

But for Atlantis… there's nothing. Absolutely zilch.

This was the first time Olympus had officially announced something after that city-state's destruction, barring annual festivals, so it's reasonable those who're directly involved in the raid were worried.

No, not worried for the incoming disaster – they _knew_ it's coming – but _what_ was coming.

For the civilians, who didn't know better, they just thought this was a new form of festival, as Zeus announced things such as 'celebrating human prowess' and 'presenting a divine show' – precisely a perfect scenario for a large-scale event affecting the innocent populace.

"Alright, let's go over what's planned for the event," Ancaeus finally said something, after spending the entire time being contemplative. "At the very least, we'll know how the surface will go."

Hylas immediately read from the list he'd prepared beforehand, "There's various distances of footraces, chariot races, and then… martial arts. Those were the three main categories, branching out also according to genders and age."

"Genders? That's unusual…" Herakles crudely remarked.

While Greece had a more tolerant view of women in powerful positions in society when compared to the cultures surrounding it, it's still rare for a grand competition this size to immediately feature women's participation, instead of taking the usual contemplative route over several editions. The most extreme example was the Amazons, as even they had to wait for a period of time before their own strength was enough to pressure others to include them in multi-cities festivals.

Women who's associated with important individuals, such as Herakles's wife Megara, had it slightly better only for the fact their husbands or close relatives were allowed to bring them along. If Megara wished to invite herself and attend a general party on her lonesome, then her social rank must be so far above the host it's viewed with a blind eye. That's why generally women held their own parties, dinners, and other social events, further isolating them from the other gender.

"Are we competing?" Peleus asked, more in jest rather than actual intent. "There's still life in these old bones yet!"

"We're nearly the same age, you dolt," Herakles shot him down, his eyes twitching in irritation. "Why are you dragging me into this indirectly?"

"Oh, that's intentional."

"You-!"

"No, we will not," Theseus cut in between them, his well-trimmed beard framing his serious visage better. "We shall stand guard. The young ones will."

"Agreed," Asclepius nodded, then turning his attention towards the younger members. "Hylas, the twins… prepare yourself. Especially Pollux – we'll rely on you more than usual."

"Yes, sir!" The androgynous girl saluted cheerfully.


	37. Ganging-Up & Bullying

**Hey, all, how's it going? Hopefully you're all staying safe amidst this global problem (for future readers who don't know what I'm talking about, just check what happened in 2020). And for all of you to whom the prior sentence is far too late, then I hope for your speedy and complete recovery. **

**This will be the last major battle in this story before the ending, so enjoy this and the next chapter! Check out the Character Sheet Update at the end of the chapter too.  
**

**Mailbag's kinda empty, but it still works for me!  
****ChiDead: I honestly have no plans in making a full-blown Uruk story right now - just being focused on this story and the upcoming projects. Sorry if I didn't measure up to your expectations.  
HarmonyDST05: ****I'm not sure I'll include the Roman Pantheon, because I plan on closing the story as it is right now. As I mentioned in the AN, it's coming to an end. I just don't see the place to fit those strong characters properly in-story, and I don't particularly enjoy their characterization in FGO anyway.  
12345: ****Yeah, you've got it! BTW, I've been using the twins since several chapters ago.  
**

**Disclaimer: Where's Heaven's Feel Pt. III, Ufotable? I'm sick of asking TYPE-MOON, because it's clear it's no longer in their hands...**

* * *

"Really, you should've given up long ago. What's the point?"

To Pandora's taunt, Athena only gripped her silver halberd harder, glaring with the same intensity even though she's bleeding profusely from various parts of her body.

Leg tendons. Armpit vessels. Vertebrae nerves. Optical senses.

Those were just a few of the many injuries the former Heroic Vessel had inflicted on her, yet they're healing rapidly in a matter of seconds. The blood quickly crystallized into crimson gleaming grains, marring her otherwise immaculate silver armor set.

"Haa… Haa… Haa…"

Being the Goddess of [War], she knew controlling one's breath in combat was the most basic requirement.

Calm one's mind. Steel one's nerves. Harden one's structure. Project one's soul.

Pandora could only smile at the tenacious teenage goddess, as she saw-

\- BANG!

…a shield bashed directly into her side, pulverizing a great chunk of her face and torso.

Yet, just like Athena, the little girl revived again and again, all with the same disgusting smile and condescending look.

No, perhaps… Pandora was a bit faster.

Therefore, a prolonged battle would only disadvantage Athena. That's what her [Wisdom] concluded. She might hold the greater combat ability, but it'd be for naught if the enemy _simply wouldn't die_.

"Molpadia, watch and learn."

"Mn!"

The childish, sweet tone, full of confidence at Athena's victory, was what drove her forward. Come to think of it… was this what those humans called 'spirit'? The ability to derive unfathomable strength even in front of insurmountable odds, and to conquer them? To survive, to protect, to love, to avenge…

Because if Athena fell here, then this child would be lost.

She would win, not because her powers would logically allow her to do so… but because she _must_.

The illogical, paradoxical form of fighting. The [War] her brother specialized in, and one she'd shunned until recently. The kind where no law could govern the outcome, and underdogs could defeat the overwhelming favorite.

Perhaps now was a good time to try it?

Still…

Fighting this little girl was like facing off against Jason.

No… was it 'Shirō'? The alias he used during the start of his adventurers…

Maybe, just maybe, that's actually his real identity, and 'Jason' was the alias instead?

Humans, yet not. Powerful, yet not. Heartless, yet not.

'_These stuffs are giving me a headache!'_

\- BANG!

Pandora took advantage of one of her lapses of concentration to lash out with a bullet made of dark liquid, large enough to obliterate an entire temple by itself. Athena parried with her shield, blasting it upwards to the never-ending ceiling in her own domain, specifically modified just in case there's an intruder like this. Originally, it should be modelled after a post-classical library, but those documents and other information storage form were too precious to be around a battle. Therefore, in an instant, Athena could reconfigure everything to a more spacious and secure location.

One of the reasons other than that was also to ensure the safety of any innocents caught up in a battle between the gods, which happened more often than people thought. Molpadia's presence was a clear incentive to initiate this form – both in terms of her domain and her current outfit.

[Aegis, are you alright?] Athena calmly asked the still-reverberating shield.

A chirpy female voice came out from it, [Of course, Mother! Such impacts are too weak to be noticed!]

[Overconfidence is the source of calamity,] Athena's helmet spoke with Metis's voice.

[Hahaha! Whatever Mother decides, I shall follow shamelessly!] Labrys cut in, remarking hard enough Pandora could see the halberd in Athena's hands trembling in excitement.

This conversation was something Athena's used to – after all, she's the one who designed them this way. Tuning down the volume, along with activating a mental manipulation Magecraft to filter and point out any important information they're saying, she muttered, "Then let's go."

Pandora seemed to have heard that, as her minute-sized face contorted into a savage grin unbefitting of her child-like figure.

\- BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

Over the course of several seconds, the halberd in her hands clashed many times over with the onslaught of an ocean of dark energies, flowing and flickering and lashing out with intensity greater than Okeanos's wrath. The near-black wall writhed against Athena's silver strikes, her form blurred into a shining comet, where nothing around it was allowed to exist, tearing large holes into every section it made contact with.

Athena's personal domain was quick to configure, as previously explained, and thus was able to change its size whenever it's convenient. It felt like the space around Pandora had constricted, allowing Athena to bounce off the walls and use the ricochet to strike even faster, but no.

She's purely teleporting her own path into whichever position was the most optimal to reach her target.

From Molpadia's eyes, her teacher transformed into a complex and unfollowable silver web, grinding down the monster in front of her.

However, even after everything she did, not once did her figure managed to get close enough to Pandora for Athena to physically touch her, much less endanger the humanoid abomination.

"Remove yourself from my sight at once, and I may just spare you," Athena dangerously growled, though the little girl in front of her didn't show any reaction to the verbal threat. "Why are you wasting your time here, in my domain? Our champions will have already taken steps against you!"

Ah, that's the one.

At the mention of those 'champions', Pandora's manic expression stilled, replaced by a cold, tranquil pragmatism.

"You really think so?"

For the first time, the thin little girl moved.

"Guh!"

Athena forcibly contorted her body to one side to avoid a casual claw strike, itself not enlarged in terms of space by any means. But she felt _power_ in those slim, bony fingers – enough to rend her internal organs out fatally.

Olympians had different physical structure than the humans they ruled over. While appearing to be made of flesh-and-blood, their constituents were far more… inorganic, a remnant of their own creation by the Titans, and the events which led to the end of the _Titanomakhia_. Therefore, injuring one was already considered a great feat in and of itself… and killing one could be said to be impossible by mortal means.

That's why the _Argo_ was so impressive in its battle against Poseidon and Atlantis. Not only were they capable of taking the advantage against the underwater city-state – long thought to be unassailable – all of them were able to harm warriors and monsters born from Poseidon's lineage, each capable of rousing deadly chaos on its own in the towns on the surface.

While Athena wasn't privy to the details of the climactic battle, there's no doubt whatever trick they pulled against Poseidon was worthy to be recorded in the annals of history… before it got summarily banned and erased out of fear by the gods.

Right now, Athena felt the same threat looming over her existence from that seemingly off-thought attempt from Pandora.

With _one strike_.

And now, her vision was filled by innumerable phantoms of them.

Fist. Claw. Palm. Side swipe. Kick. Elbow. Knee. Headbutt. Bite. Puncture. Lock. Break.

Every form of physical arts appeared at the same time, striking from multiple angles.

[Mother!]

Aegis's voice brought her out of her stupor, as the shield automatically shone and forcibly pushed the assault back with a shining golden spherical barrier.

"Tsk, you are really troublesome…"

Silently thanking her daughter for the save, Athena immediately taunted back, "Why? Because these daughters of mine are properly taken care of and raised? Unlike _you_?"

\- STATIC!

'_Ah, there it is,' _the goddess noted Pandora's sudden outburst of emotions, beyond the cruel calmness she exhibited previously. [Now, Metis, do analyze her completely, please.]

[Understood,] the black-haired young girl spoke out from Athena's helmet.

\- Grab.

"Thinking of taking advantage of my emotions? You're eons too young for that, Athena!" Pandora shouted, her hand instantaneously wrapping around the goddess's face before she could react, slamming her to the floor of her own domain.

Naturally, said floor softened, allowing the building to swallow the impact and cushion the blow. With a 'squish', Pandora's hand sunk to the wrist, before her target disappeared from her grip and reappeared some distance away.

"Only proof my approach is working," Athena coldly analyzed, her arms laying relaxed by her side. "You should've… _gone for the head_, instead of slamming me to the ground. Is that not showing your judgement is being impaired?"

"SHUT UP!"

The previously-fluid offensive turned rigid, beginning to corrupt Athena's entire domain and covering each surface. From the encroaching darkness, hardened spikes and bullets emerged from all directions, each as fast as Athena's previous strikes.

How did one overwhelm a superior opponent, in terms of skill? The easiest answer would be 'numbers'… and that's what Pandora based this new form of attack on. Not only that, but their previous exchange had shone light on the Goddess of [War]'s martial capabilities, and she emulated a large part of it into the angles, force, and feints in the barrage.

An omnidirectional attack performed by similar physical parameters as the attacker's own abilities? Surely, this would be too much to overcome?

Of course, that would be true if the other party didn't _also_ have an omnidirectional defensive trick.

Like before, Aegis shone with a brilliant golden light, and this time, it reflected the oncoming wave back at Pandora, who calmly absorbed the various devilish materials despite her recent emotional outburst.

The two eyed each other for several more seconds, before engaging once again.

Both were knowingly just playing around with the expressions they showcased, while internally they continued to be calculated and cautious against each other. Not just what techniques to use, but also what emotions to display and decisions to make – bluffing the bluffer, repeated over and over again _ad infinitum_.

In this battle, Athena was certain of only one thing: this little girl in front of her was of the same ilk as Jason's true form. What were they, then? She's not sure – but certainly powerful and _different_, enough to threaten the hegemony of the [Faith] cultural set-up the Olympians had created around the area after the start of their rule.

It's always the foreigners who're the biggest threats to established rule, and Pandora was a cruel irony: the very individual created to start said [Faith] ended up being the most dangerous individual against it.

Labrys flashed, drilling through Pandora's defenses, who this time had to physically dodge as the [War] Authority incasing the weapon had enlarged to a point it occupied half the available space around her. Deftly, as if the gigantic, larger-than-Athena halberd was nothing more than a feeble reed, it snaked around Pandora's personal space, hunting her fragile-looking body incessantly.

Aegis shone, this time more gently, because the shield's not focused on defense – instead, it's creating roadblocks where Athena could herd Pandora into. Certainly weaker as a result, since Pandora could smash through it without much difficulty, but the young girl had to slow down, enabling the goddess to take the upper hand.

And that's all Athena needed.

How did a Goddess of [Wisdom] fight? Using overwhelming might? With ever-burning passion? Equipping invincible equipment?

No. even without all of the above, [Wisdom] killed the enemy by the method of least resistance.

Labrys vibrated once again, but not in an emotional outburst – a specific [Divine] Magecraft had been activated, quietly humming through and across the weapon. The runes were specifically engraved so they didn't shine, for fear of warning the enemy of an impending attack. Though Athena wasn't worried of another individual with a greater command of [Wisdom] than her, those with enough [Knowledge] could decipher her methods very quickly, like the times when she sparred with Hecate.

Against Pandora, though, she wasn't too worried.

This little girl had just picked the wrong fight.

The halberd in her hand apparently followed Pandora's movements, just a touch faster to incite a sense of desperation from the first woman. It's not a speed Athena hadn't shown previously, so there's nothing suspicious going on beside the increase in obstacles.

However, the goddess's movement was herding Pandora into a zone of certain kill, where there's no escape.

\- Pfwt. Pfwt. Pfwt.

The noise of their battle had receded, but not for a lack of action. It's simply Pandora had decided to dodge instead of engaging like before, and Athena chasing the little girl. Athena's domain would allow all of her attacks to continue unimpeded, with the opposite effect applying to her opponents, slowly sealing off their escape routes over time.

The sound remaining was from Labrys and Aegis bashing through the air, each with enough strength to pulverize a demigod with just their shockwaves alone. Molpadia was just far enough to hear the muted version of them, leaving her eardrums unharmed.

…or was she?

Because the way Athena was herding Pandora towards was… to _her?_

* * *

The former Heroic Vessel tried her hardest to prevent the manic gleam surfacing to her eyes, worried Athena might gleam her thoughts from it.

A trick pulled straight out of her current successor, SHIRŌ. Leave parts of herself vulnerable, using every material plane imaginable, to actually herd the offensive force towards where she'd wanted.

In this case, her true target.

Like she tried before with Ars Notoria, Molpadia was a great asset to use against Alaya. That's why this program was always a great risk to it – Heroic Vessels were meant to leave descendants in any reality they're deployed to, so Alaya's influence would remain as long as possible, instead of the momentary reliefs Counter Guardians brought, as well as the great collateral destruction following them.

'Descendants'. That word implied a spiritual connection to their predecessor, not just physical ones.

That also meant they served as an indirect connection to Alaya, where its opponents could use to attack.

No, those weren't easily accessible by any means. This method practically was only available to Pandora because… well, because she's _herself_, a Heroic Vessel. Former or not, there's still a bridge between her and Alaya, one she could retrace and reconstruct to serve as a weakened pathway to it.

With Molpadia, though, that weakness would be eradicated, creating a wide open door where Pandora would burst through to kill it.

Unfortunately, SHIRŌ sensed this strategy as well – perhaps informed by Alaya as well? – and had put any of his descendants in the hardest place to reach.

Yes, 'descendants', who were scattered across the timeline and dimensions, as well as accessible to anyone with a great enough command over True Magic connected to those attributes.

Like the one individual currently isolated in an everdistant utopia, forever out of Pandora's reach. Like the one individual in the future, who had made it clear he had no desire to be part of a Quantum Time Lock revision by a Heroic Vessel, much less one occupied by _two_. Like the Protogenoi of [Time] and [Fate], both placing themselves in spaces clearly laid out as a trap to individuals like Pandora.

Therefore, as always, if the complicated things didn't work, one simply wasn't using enough brute force.

Notoria was prematurely awakened, and acted rashly. Goetia was left alone as a result, and SHIRŌ took advantage of this fact. Theurgia was treated the worst – with its intelligence suffering from her sudden increase in power, it was downed as a feral beast, instead of a proud child of hers.

The most irritating thing about those three's demise wasn't their failures. It's the fact Alaya would be able to analyze their data and prepare countermeasures accordingly, which closed off more avenues for Pandora to go into. No avenue meant predictable, and predictable meant death in this business. There's no doubt SHIRŌ did what he'd done in terms of safeguarding any potential loose ends only after receiving information from the Human Order itself, excluding what he'd already figured out himself.

Once again, back to square one. Or, in this case, brute force.

To be fair, Athena was perhaps the best-equipped among the remaining Olympians – those weren't already under her control or incapacitated – to deal with her.

Pandora attempted to sneak into the goddess's domain the same way she did to help Goetia infiltrate Atlantis to Poseidon's personal chambers… but it nearly failed spectacularly, saved only by her decision not to go through with it.

Because unlike Atlantis, Athena's domain wasn't intimately connected to her own city-state. Despite being Athens's namesake, she didn't physically dwell inside the city. Poseidon chose otherwise, and he paid dearly with his life – as did the various previous monarchs who held the same status, such as the Protogenoi and the Titans. Well, the former only did so out of technicality – being concepts, they were extremely difficult to grasp, like grains of sand in one's palm.

So, even without [Wisdom], Athena decided to supervise Athens from her own personal domain, instead of conjoining the two together.

Every single individual who wished to reach her through Athens would only face destruction. Unbeknownst to the inhabitants and current ruler of the city-state, it was line with as varied destructive traps imaginable. Some of them would safely pacify threats without harming the citizens, while others were far more sinister and macabre in using their lives as either bait or fuel.

Athens's size grew so large partially out of necessity to create this ritual size – the rest simply being good management.

They even had mortals able to see Pandora's figure, for crying out loud! That's a feat as impressive as bedding a female goddess!

Then, with this option crossed off – again, she suspected Alaya and SHIRŌ had hands in this – she spread her arms to allow miniature eldritch insects to permeate out of their pores, buzzing their way through the cold Athenian air. She had to limit their strength to the bare minimum, while maximizing their surveillance capabilities, so as to avoid detection. While these creatures hadn't been observed or recorded before, some of their signatures should be able to be detected by the library of information supplied by Athena's [Wisdom].

\- Bzzt… Bzzt… Bzzt…

Some more experienced patrol officers did turn their heads whenever the creatures hovered closer, to their credit, but their microscopic size meant only the most magically talented were able to discern what's actually making those sounds, since they're practically invisible to the naked eyes. However, even that wouldn't be enough; said surveillance capabilities also included stealth techniques, enabling them to blend in among humans the best.

After all, Pandora was a Heroic Vessel, with all her connection to this most hated species.

However, what she was counting on was actually reverse psychology: instead of trying to find a specific object without getting caught, she's relying on having her mini-drones _destroyed_, so she could trace whichever area held Athena's highest automated defensive Authorities.

Thus, when she sensed a particular empty space near the bottom of a nondescript part of the outer wall – the only relevant reference point was a small shrine nearby – she immediately moved to secure her jackpot.

Oh, the traps activated, alright – but she's so fast they didn't even matter, as she travelled solely across the shortest distance possible. If she stuck to her original plan in scouting the entire city herself, they would've been able to detect and surround her – but not if she's moving faster than any mortal or divine arrow straight to her target.

\- BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

She stretched out her hand as the entire city was awake with a city-wide intrusion alarm.

Five more steps…

Her insects surrounding the 'blank spot' buzzed stronger, shedding off their stealth in favor of channeling Pandora's power, as the empty space among them vibrated in an attempt to tear itself apart.

Three more steps…

\- STATIC! STATIC! STATIC!

Athens's automated defense attempted to collapse the forming tear, trying its best to deny anyone passage. However, with Pandora now so close – relatively speaking, as each of her steps crossed hundreds of yards in one go – there's too much disparity in Conceptual Weight for an automated system to effectively did its job.

One more step…

…and she's through, welcomed by the sight of the interior of an infinite library.

* * *

"You're very slick…" Athena breathed out, lightly circulating her [War] Authority inside and around her to ward off the particulate matter Pandora had been spreading in her avoidance. "That, I can complement you on. Hephaestus deserves credit for managing such specifications."

"Going back to the parental taunt again? I sense your vocabulary is getting close to its limits, Athena," Pandora spat out, though despite her calm and cold exterior, her mind wrestled with the irritation surfacing from within. No, perhaps this was also a side effect of Athena's own emotions, coming from the emphatic bridge built into all Heroic Vessels to integrate them better in society. "I expect more from the Goddess of [Wisdom]."

"Because it's a waste of energy searching for an appropriate poetic justice to describe you."

\- Swish.

Athena swung Labrys in front of her, creating an imaginary line on the ground. "In any case, your intention is clear as day."

"Oh, is it really?" Pandora coyly smiled. "What do you think it is?"

Athena simply closed her eyes and sighed instead of answering. Both of them knew Pandora's only here because of Molpadia, who's safely tucked away in what seemed to be a simple inconspicuous corner, very vulnerable. However, [Space] Magecraft enveloped her entirety, using whatever remained of [Infiniteness] inside of Athena, to ensure not a single soul could harm her latest student while the goddess still lived.

If anyone tried, they'd find their distance with the little girl to be continuously increasing, fated to never reach their target. Of course, by the time they realized it, their guard would've been completely open to a lethal strike from Athena. A simple trick, but reliable from that very simplicity alone.

"In any case, your time is up," Athena declared, much to Pandora's confusion.

They'd been going back-and-forth since the start, and the goddess's offense couldn't pierce Pandora's defense. So much for the Goddess of [War], renowned to possess the highest martial prowess in Greece, beyond her brother's overwhelming brute force…

Internally, Metis spoke, [Mother, your confidence is unwavering, even with unfavorable odds. While it's reassuring, pray expound on the reason behind this. I do not understand.]

[Wahaha! So Mother's greatness is such you don't even understand with that large brain of yours, Metis?!" Labrys shook with glee, though more of admiration of her 'creator' than intentionally bullying her gloomy younger sister. "There's no time to waste; let us finish this defective product off!]

The halberd's declaration was filled with bloodthirst, backed by a seriousness rarely exhibited by the oldest sibling. Despite her normally loud and brash actions, confident to the skies because she believed she's in the right, she'd never toss away any possible relevant information in regards to improving how the job's done. Metis knew this, and much to her own annoyance, had grown to accept it in the short time they were born together.

Aegis, as usual, was the calm medium between the two, though sometimes her airheadedness showed through. Not this time, though, as she said, [Can you give Mother some time to talk instead? And you are being rude, Sister.]

They all knew the story of Pandora – the objective version, not the subjective, Zeus-approved one – from Athena's decision of being more open, and dare say, _human_, with them, just like how she's beginning to treat her oldest remaining daughter, Medusa. Of how the little girl was supposed to be the darling of the gods, the progenitor of humanity in Greece, continuing the lineage of Mother Goddesses with direct Authority on [Birth]. Of how she failed them, unable to contain the sins of humanity coming forth from their creation, and was sealed as a result.

Kids heard the story of how a misguided woman mistakenly touching what she's not supposed to, just like Prometheus's slander perpetuated ever since. Zeus had always used these things and twisted them into stories benefitting him and humiliating them.

Pandora's failure as a container was hypothesized due to Alaya's interference in making her a Heroic Vessel. While physically she's perfect, her soul container was modified as a result, merged with the 'Pandoras' of other realities to improve her capacity as a savior of humanity. It's _supposed_ to improve her ability to contain whatever Zeus and Hephaestus put into her. It's _supposed_ to give her the strength to break the shackles of fate ordained upon her by designed, to temper the gods' relationships with humanity.

But she failed. _Alaya_ failed.

Obviously, Athena had very little information regarding this new deity. Her databank of Alaya came from observations of its current agent, SHIRŌ, and its former one, PANDORA, and thus incomplete. What's inhibiting her from completing it was her own respect of her daughter, Medusa; Athena was fully capable of hijacking the young girl's senses occasionally, but the sole remaining Gorgon's happiness was more important for the goddess than some tiny pieces of intel – those she could extrapolate from other data points anyway.

She's not the Goddess of [Wisdom] for nothing.

Without answering Metis's question, Athena chose to advance once again, flickering nearer to Pandora.

\- Pfwt.

This time, she swung Labrys in a different way, causing a different sound when it slashed through the air as well. Pandora noticed this – a difference in flex of the weapon and torque of the wrist – and stepped inside its swing to kill it off at its fulcrum point. However, the halberd's butt shot upwards towards her torso, forcing her to half-step to the side while launching a high knifing palm as a counter to Athena's eyes.

\- Clang!

Naturally, Metis's form shifted, covering her mother's eyes with a newly-formed visor, sending Pandora's fingers flying back with a metallic clang. However, the former Heroic Vessel had already moved, contorting her body to launch a roundhouse kick at Athena's midsection, right where her right armpit was and in-between her arms and Labrys's shaft.

Athena easily shifted her weight backwards and let Aegis took the brunt of the blow. The shield's constitution was based on energy dissipation, as was common in mortal enchantments as well. At her realm, however, _conceptual _dissipation took over in importance, especially with an opponent like Pandora, who literally held all the sins in the world. The artificial girl grunted, but held on by gritting her teeth, enabling Athena to swing her left hand and Pandora along with it away.

As soon as some distance was created between them, Labrys snaked towards the little girl's torso, but that same gap meant she was able to summon her dark protectors from before – one Athena hadn't had the chance to fully analyze…

…or, to be more precise, _tried _to summon.

All of a sudden, Labrys travelled unimpeded and smashed into Pandora's form, who'd managed to recover from her shock by twisting her body to avoid the blades and allowed the blunt part digging into her frame, causing her to cough out black blood and bile as she tumbled away.

Her eyes caught something as she ragdolled away. "Molpadia…"

\- Thud.

Slamming the spear point of her halberd beside Pandora's neck and half-circling it with the top of the axe part, Athena answered, "indeed."

What Pandora had missed was during their battle, as the former Heroic Vessel tried to reach the current Heroic Vessel's flesh-and-blood daughter, Molpadia hadn't been just silently watching and cheering for her teacher. Her adorable face was contorted into a concentrated wince, her small chubby fingers spread forwards while chanting occasionally inside a magic circle.

One which wasn't there when Pandora last checked, but she was so distracted by the extremes Athena's domain could do to _her_ she missed what it could do to _everything else_.

"What you've planned to use her for against her father, I did the same to _you_," Athena coldly declared, before summarily chopping Pandora's head off with frightening speed.

How quick? The entire conversation lasted barely a split second, performed under High-Speed Divine Words which implanted the sentences directly in Pandora's mind. In fact, Molpadia had barely performed this act for more than 5 minutes, from beginning to end.

However, Pandora wasn't that easy to kill, as her neck shifted unrecognizably sideways to avoid the beheading motion. Trying to escape, her body was immediately pinned down by Aegis, while Athena split Labrys's butt and took out a small carving machete to pin the little girl's body down. "Thinking of escaping? You've lost your window."

What the goddess had realized, for once, was this Pandora was the real deal, instead of her clones sent across the lands to incite humans. Even if she was wrong, the amount of Conceptual Weight gathered in this body would cripple the main one if Athena took hold of it, so it's a low-risk gamble to strike now.

"And I'm not talking about myself."

To Pandora's confused stare – weird as it was coming from a misshapen head – the space behind Athena rippled open.

No, not just space – time, reality, dimensions, and all of their cohorts were forcibly cut apart, as smoothly as cutting water.

From it, a deadpan face and small body emerged, still in a full set of billowing white clothes from the last time Pandora saw her from Poseidon's memories.

"Hop. I am back."

Hecate struck a pose as if she was playing one-legged jumps childishly, much to the sweat-dropping of everyone present.

Athena, despite the awkward situation, finally answered Metis's question from earlier, "And _that_ is why I am so confident," while pointing at the Goddess of [Magic].

* * *

Something is wrong.

If not, how can Nyneve come out of nowhere, forcibly creating a portal while _I am bathing_, and launches herself at me while crying?

All of my wives had readied themselves to kill this interloper: Atalanta with her Reinforced, extended claws; Medusa with her blood-crimson mark on her forehead, Cybele shining menacingly; Medea had already summoned several magic circles, each enough to blow this castle into dust.

No, on second observation, I can see black fur beginning to take over Atalanta's limbs, indicating she's channeling the power of the newly-acquired Calydonian Boar hide. The effect was more powerful than I predicted, as the hot water around her is beginning to pollute from the madness oozing out of it.

"S-Sir SHIRŌ! H-Help me! I'm about to be killed!" Nyneve, oblivious to all of this, clings on to me and screamed hysterically. "She… S-She's going t-to kill me!"

"Ahem!"

Her messy crying face is forcefully pried away from my chest by Atalanta's… black paw.

"W-Who is this…?" Amidst her wails, Nyneve manages to ask, much to Atalanta's annoyance.

"I am his wife!" She prickly declares, her now-white hair bristling with anger. "State your identity!"

"W-Wife…"

However, contrary to everyone's expectations, including my own, the sole remaining Lady of the Lake then switches the place she latches on to: now Atalanta's naked breasts.

"UUUWWWWAAAAAAANNNNNN! M-Miss Wife! Y-You're strong, r-right?! P-Protect me! Save me!" Nyneve even goes as far as to shift back-and-forth between her solid and gaseous form to cling onto the flustered queen better. "I-I'm about to be k-killed! HHHHHEEEEEEEELLLLLPPPPP!"

'_S-She's mentally regressing…' _Both Medea and I seem to have shared the same thought while sweat-dropping together. My youngest wife thusly puts herself as the new mediator. "Now, now, can you please explain your circumstances? It's difficult to safeguard you if we don't know the situation, right?"

Normally, that's a very commendable, mature explanation from her. However, seeing her speaking while being stark naked, with the remaining hot water vaporizing into steam around her blossoming body, makes me aroused instead.

I think her breasts have been growing another cup recently? Her ass is filling up nicely too…

Compared to Atalanta, whose growth period seems to have stopped – not that I'll ever mention this fact to her personally – and Medusa's on-again-off-again physical transformation, Medea's natural physical growth is a comforting known quantity in a world filled with illogical things.

Ah, no, get down… Mustn't get hard in front of guests…

That said, perhaps our previous steamy make-out session before Nyneve's arrival has something to do with this?

"H-Hecate says she'll c-cut me out when she returns…! WWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!" After she calms down slightly, she finally utters the perpetrator who's successful in reducing her to this state.

"Teacher's fully healed…!" Medea claps her hands happily, her role as a mediator completely forgotten in her giddiness. "Husband, can we…?"

"No, stop, stop, stop." Having had enough of the chaotic situation interrupting a comfortable skinship session, Medusa cuts through the conversation. "Has no one realized why Hecate left the place Shirō put her in?"

_That_ put everyone quiet for a while, as they each rack their brains as to the reason of Hecate's sudden 'revival' and escape.

I've shared the basic details of Avalon to Medea, who's the most curious regarding how the Everdistant Utopia works in accordance to her innate desire to learn. Besides, it's directly connected to her beloved family member and teacher, so I relented. Even with my full knowledge, it _should _be impossible for anyone to breach Avalon's barrier from the inside… _without full intricate knowledge of how it works from the faeries' perspective._

Oh, oh.

I may have just sent someone with the mental capacity to do just that.

"S-She said s-she's going to s-study me… and asks if I'm willing to be cut open! What kind of person is that?! It's your fault, Sir SHIRŌ!"

\- Pata Pata Pata Pata Pata Pata!

Her fists pummel my and Atalanta's body, though to us it barely feels like a tickle. The Lady of the Lake has very little offensive capabilities herself, and even her dead sister requires external conduits to be a proper physical threat.

That said, she's impudently sitting on Atalanta's lap… though saying it like this is a gross misdescription. My first wife is actively strangling her form with one of Pankration's wrestling maneuver just out of spite, though her black fur and white hair have begun to recede back to their original shades.

"It's likely a threat grave enough to make her act again. Medea, can you contact Circe?" I ask, putting forth my hypothesis, thinking the witch is in danger again.

"Already did. She's in the middle of masturbating just now."

"I-I don't think that's a necessary piece of information…"

Medea looks at me smugly, happy she manages to put me in a bind.

Shaking my head to get rid of the buzz, I finally decide, "Let's get dressed, then. At this stage, PANDORA should be making some moves. Maybe Hecate is reacting to that."

"Before that… Dear husband, may I study this guest of ours first?" Medea innocently asks, though the glint in her eyes is anything but.

"NNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

Something was wrong.

Even though Athena held Pandora at her mercy, why was her instinct yelling at her to _move right away_? Even though Hecate was here, and there's no way this little girl could…

\- BANG!

The Goddess of [Magic] had taken the option of thinking away from Athena, as she was forcibly teleported away in a flurry of kaleidoscopic light.

"How predictable," the emotionless girl commented, as she spread her khakkara across both of the goddesses, eyeing at the offending newcomer.

"Father…" Athena growled, eyeing the lightning-clad figure carrying Pandora while floating in the sky.

Compared to Poseidon, who possessed the looks of a healthy and handsome adult man, Zeus's façade was considerably older, with pure white hair and long flowing beard. They shone with such purity one might argue the color came from his [Lightning] Authority – after all, who had observed a lightning strike in any other color? Though Magecraft could produce rainbow-colored effects, in reality, those who chose to customize their Lightning Element spells were only wasting their effort, because that calculation space could be used to improve its efficiency and efficacy.

Hence, most stuck with white lightning. Natural was the best.

And for this [Lightning], Zeus _was_ nature itself.

His body didn't match such an elderly visage, however, with toned and rippling muscles weaving through his exposed upper torso, and his flowing toga failed to conceal the powerful joints and sinew of his lower limbs. Additionally, there's no doubting his virility in _that area_, as various women throughout history could attest to.

Pandora sighed tiredly, playfully slapping the side of the Chief God. "What took you so long? Geez, I'm beginning to regret taking control of this useless of a puppet."

"Perhaps taking hostage of his main wife wasn't such a great idea, after all?" Hecate bluntly blurted out, much to Athena's shock.

"Y-You have Lady Hera in y-your grasp?!" Her gasp was more akin to a near-bursting stratovolcano, as she gripped Labrys and Aegis tighter, her battle aura pouring out more than what it was when she's just protecting Molpadia.

Athena, like Pandora, was born asexually from their respective parent deities, and one of them coincidentally was Zeus for both. That was why she was able to come up with taunts against the former Heroic Vessel so quickly and accurately – indeed, they shared much of the same history.

But unlike Pandora, Athena had always been a dutiful and responsible child. She had no physical connection with Hera, but the Mother Goddess practically raised her generation just like how a real mother would. This relationship was clearly far more strained than mortals' own, but far better than most familial bonds in Olympus. As it was, it's rare for even close siblings to avoid fighting to the death with each other – as she herself could attest to many times with Ares, over every little thing.

\- Pat.

Her torrent of thought was interrupted by Hecate's pat on her head, whose face was as equally grim as Athena's own, though far less emotional. "There's no need of any hesitation. Let us attack."

Thinking it over fractions of second with her [Wisdom], Athena nodded and flickered at the same time as her compatriot.

Despite Hera's capture, there's no reason for them to worry. The Pandora in front of them was the real deal, not a decoy, thus there's no physical threat to the Mother Goddess able to permanently harm her. There's a good chance Pandora only stationed a few powerful sentinels to guard Hera, and none of them was powerful enough to injure her in any way.

The only thing they had to do to safeguard the hostage's safety was to prevent Pandora and Zeus from leaving.

However, that's easier said than done.

Streaks of lightning bolted erratically and fiercely around them, limiting their movements, while their bright light and thunderous sound limited their senses. Hecate teleported here and there, while Athena preferred to rely on her martial talents – both nearly equally matched in speed – but Zeus's simple area-of-attack lightning cage was enough to inhibit them severely.

Athena gritted her teeth. _'While Molpadia is still weakening that girl… We have to strike __**now**__!'_

"Aegis!"

[Yes, Mother!]

The shield in her left arm glowed, recreating the previous barrier she used against Pandora, but in the form of a long rectangular box. Without even saying anything to Hecate, the Goddess of [Magic] understood and teleported both of them inside the newly-formed golden three-dimensional 'road', leading straight to Zeus and Pandora on his shoulder.

Aegis only exerted her strength for a split second, just enough of a window for Hecate to utilize her Second Magic and move closer to their target. Still, expanding her Authority in the middle of Zeus's storm of lightning wasted a lot of energy, and her heavy pants echoed through Athena's head.

The Zeus in front of them frowned, before his lightning changed in color and intensity.

[Athena, this lightning is going to interfere with my magic. Beware of turbulence,] Hecate's monotonous voice warned through the telepathic communication they constructed the moment they reunited, to which Athena silently gave a mental 'OK'. [Then, on my mark…]

Away from the confines of this World, lightning was one of the few pure energies able to violently wreck space, being born from one of the four fundamental forces, as well as being the strongest. Left unchecked with an equal and opposite quality and quantity of its polar twin, electricity – and its basest form, electromagnetic force – could easily destroy stars.

And that destructive potential was what Pandora was channeling through Zeus, as his lightning began to shift into a rainbow shade – the very same lightning born during the birth of galaxies.

Its Conceptual Weight was such it was able to damage space and time simply by existing, preventing Hecate's usage of Operation of Parallel Worlds to its fullest.

Then she should just change her technique.

[WHA-!]

That was the sound Athena made when she's kicked out of the kaleidoscopic tunnel forcibly, and having her body smashed into by lightning the size of Ares's true, gigantic form.

Her scream of disbelief was drowned out from Pandora's ears by Hecate's declaration.

"**Sixth Magic…"**

'_She's bullshitting!'_

Pandora clearly knew of the toll Hecate enacted on herself when she single-handedly defeated Poseidon out of anger from her disciples' injuries. After all, their Conceptual Weight was fundamentally different, and the Goddess of [Magic] had to rely on psychological attack as much as her own skill with Magecraft and Magic to win. This was why Zeus was able to reign for so long, unchallenged, just like his father and his father's father before him – the seat of [King] endowed them with a layer of conceptual invincibility against their 'inferiors'.

Poseidon, being the second-ranked god in Olympus, just ahead of Hades, was clearly above Hecate in pure might.

But it only showcased how dangerous the small woman could be when she's actually putting in effort beyond that airheaded expression of hers.

"…**Nega-Deo."**

If an attack was unavoidable by any means, then what one should do on defense was erase the attacker from existence _before_ the attack started.

\- Cough!

Hecate splurted out blood from her mouth, but her composure didn't waver in the slightest.

Because if she did, this magic would consume even her.

"…I was right. Why did I worry so much?"

However, what did break her concentration was the relieved face of Pandora, instead of a threatened one, as well as the casual tone she spoke in.

"You're too focused on Zeus, thinking I was just controlling him."

From down below on the ground, a smoking Athena managed to raise her head slightly to the tune of the conversation, while also using her right hand – now free of Labrys, as the halberd was knocked aside by the lightning – to signal to the crying Molpadia to _not_ come to her aid.

"Did you forget my assimilation powers? Now… he is me, and I am him."

Hecate could barely open her eyes in shock before her own attack rebounded on her, flinging her down to the ground, oozing blood from every pore of her skin.

"So, it's a suicide and useless attack you've just performed, stupid."

The Sixth True Magic was devised by Hecate for the sole purpose of killing her fellow Olympians, having sat on her battle with Poseidon as she recovered in Avalon. To erase the [Fate] of them using her own method instead of trying to re-enact the Sisters of Fate's technique, to deny the existence of gods by virtue of removing them from all humanity's [Knowledge] and [Wisdom].

If she slipped up once, then the spell's target would become her instead.

…which was what happened just now, as the realization of Pandora's words struck a chord in her heart.

Because the current Zeus wasn't a god of Olympus, but Pandora's own body.

With no deities to target, the Sixth Magic turned to its own owner to consume. Cancelling the spell was the only thing she could do, but not before receiving extraneous injuries to her Divine Graph.

\- Pat.

"She's not stupid!"

The rebuttal came from a determined Medea, cradling her teacher in her arms, much like how she was handled back in Atlantis.

The glimmer of kaleidoscopic forces closed behind her, but not before Pandora's most hated human stepped through.

With a frown, Shirō assessed the situation – his crying daughter far away; Medusa's frantic sprint towards the incapacitated Athena; Atalanta's bristling murderous intent… as well as his own Magic Cores heating up in a frenzy.

Looking at his predecessor square in the eye, he uttered, "Let's take this fight somewhere else, shall we?"

"Oh, no you don-" Pandora tried to activate her Reality Marble, but she was a step too late.

"**Unlimited Blade Works."**

* * *

**Character Sheet Update!**

**P**

**Heroic Vessel PANDORA**

**Title: All the World's Evil  
Predicted Class: Grand Avenger  
Gender: Female  
Height: 152 cm  
Weight: 44 kg**

**Alignment: Chaotic Evil**

**Strength: E  
Endurance: E  
Agility: E  
Mana: EX  
Luck: EX  
Noble Phantasm: EX**

* * *

**Class/Personal Skills:**

**Avenger: EX**  
Born to gather people's hatred and grudges towards herself, Pandora could transform any form of damage into mana generation. The damage could also be transferred into sufficiently close acquaintances as 'sacrifices', if she recognized them as beings 'similar to herself'.

**Independent Manifestation: A**  
The ability to manifest into reality without any proper support or summoning ritual, sourcing its strength from pure willpower and Conceptual Strength. Pandora became strong against instant-death effect and time manipulation attacks. It's a representative of her separation from the Olympians and their cursed blood, becoming another being entirely – neither divine nor mortal.

**Self-Replenishment: A**  
So long as she remained motivated for revenge, the World itself would recover any energy expenditures from Pandora endlessly. The amount she received was limited for any given amount of time, though it would continue to flow until she was back to a perfect condition.

**Fate Weaver (Fake): A**  
The sins contained inside Pandora had plenty of karmic debt tied within them, allowing her to study the strings of fate through the hatred and grudges. Unlike the Sisters of Fate, who held the [True] version of this skill, her ability was much shorter in range, though outwardly and directly more powerful through close contact.

**Innocent Monster: EX**  
Pandora, the first woman, was supposed to be one of the 'Mother Goddesses', worshipped by humans around the world. Yet, her name was now synonymous with the amalgamation of all [Evil]s, distorting her appearance, ability, and attribute, even though her 'box' was the one responsible for it. This transformation could be argued to enhance her strength much more than her original self.

**Summoning: EX**  
The Magecraft which evoked spiritual bodies from various backgrounds. Here, Pandora used her body, or what it contained, as catalyst for her summons. As a result, they were extremely powerful, but sufficiently deep attacks which utilized and targeted Conceptual Weight could travel into her core. However, one must truly defeat her summons, which was a nigh-on impossible feat.

* * *

**Noble Phantasms**

**Pandora's Box: Immortal Poison  
Rank: EX  
Type: Anti-Divine, Anti-World  
Range: ∞  
Max. Targets: ∞**

Pandora's internal Reality Marble, created after her soul's distortion when the sins took over and broke the original 'Pandora', fusing into the being she was today. Unlike most Reality Marbles, she required physical contact to bring objects in, living or inorganic, but very little effort to expel its contents. If she wished to, she could cover the entire world with its effects by coming into contact with Gaia, but she would be left powerless and without control over the things she held inside. There were internal arguments whether this would recreate her original 'pure' self.

A world without happiness, where pain and suffering were the norm. its effects were especially potent against the divine beings which imprisoned the [Evil] inside her. One step would first grind down the [Divinity] attribute, before the [Corruption] began and destroyed the victims from within. Pandora might choose to spare the lives of those she consumed, though inadvertently these survivors would've been broken to the point of no return.

Though cheerful colors didn't exist inside, it was far from the monochrome purgatory of Tartaros. The variety of [Evil] inside was able to warp the surroundings and perspective of each victim, tailoring the images and senses to each individual. Therefore, it could be said Pandora's Box was empty in reality, and it's solely the victim's presence which gave it contents and meaning. Perhaps, this was a representative of Pandora's inherent loneliness and desire for companionship, but she had long been unable to feel such emotions.

**Flames of Olympus: Torch Flame Kindling  
Rank: A++  
Type: Anti-Unit, Anti-Divine  
Range: 2~10  
Max. Targets: 10**

A derivative of the First Flame which Prometheus stole. Born from the splitting of [Order] and [Chaos], it interacted with the primordial elements to create [Life], beginning with [Darkness] and [Night], followed by [Light] and [Day], which ended with [Heaven] and [Ocean]. Thus concluded the first cycle of birth, before time and space moved with reality into the cycle of death.

The source of energy which birthed Pandora in the first place. Hephaestus forged her body, mind, and soul from this element, which contained traces of [Life] and [Death] as the first harbinger of the cycle. Supposedly, the Flame of Olympus was lethal to all, even the Blacksmith God himself, thus he utilized one-use tools in Pandora's 'birth'. The only being it wouldn't consume was its 'daughter', Pandora herself.

Despite its destructive nature, it was originally a protective element after it first existed. Only Pandora's corruption transformed it into a ruthless killing machine, uncontrollable by anyone. A stable time loop was created when the sins took over the mastery of the Flame of Olympus, transforming the eternal fire ever since it was first seen until today. Its original attributes could be observed through the life born from Pandora, especially the five summoned creatures she preferred. It could also be said this was the source from where the five demons, Pandora's 'children', came from.

**Lemegeton: Clavicula Regis  
Rank: EX  
Type: Support  
Range: 1  
Max. Targets: 5**

A series of five eldritch tomes, about the size of a large table's surface each. They were paper-thin skins – sourced from many different beings – bound by enchanted metallic covers. Every part of them was mystical, and even one separated part from each tome held enough dark powers to corrupt a hero. As they were born from Pandora, they could be called her 'children' or 'limbs', exercising her will as she was physically restrained.

Consisting of five siblings: Goetia, Theurgia, Paulina, Almadel, and Notoria, they each were the amalgamation and symbolism of the infinite sins and evils contained within the limited vessel of Pandora's body. In effect, they, too, were accessories to the Pandora's Box, but ones who could move and act somewhat independently from their 'mother'. They specialized in different aspects of [Evil], and thus physically represented themselves accordingly.

Whether they could communicate freely with each other and Pandora or not was debatable, simply because they rarely were active together in the same time period. Individually, they're not strong enough to break free of Pandora's Maze, the prison holding their 'mother', but any trespassers would swiftly be brought to 'justice'. As the last part of Pandora (the Box, the Flame, and the Tomes), they held a portion of Pandora's total life force, allowing her to reincarnate indefinitely if even one of them still existed.


	38. Closing the Box

**Hey, everyone! Hopefully you're all still safe (and sane) nearing the end of this lockdown period. Just going through some recommended shows from various sources for me, as well as focusing on finishing this up sooner than the previous few uploads. Also, I think we all share hope things will go back to normal soon, so here's something for you to enjoy until then.**

**These last few chapters will be extremely fun to write, I can already feel it. Honestly, there were times I feel the story was getting bland, so hopefully you guys will enjoy these more as we near the finish line. Beware these last few chapters will have hefty chunks of Character Sheet Updates.**

**Let's countdown onto the last few mailbag sections!  
****royal freshness12345: The next arc is already set, and it won't be Norse Mythology. I'm rather doubtful incorporating it into the story beyond some minor references because I'm not too confident in my knowledge of it. Therefore, if I actually use that setting, it won't be until some time in the future. Sorry for disappointing you.  
nanox876: ****No, it won't take center stage. The title is intentionally misleading, because the main point is the first word: 'quests'. Like they say, the journey is more precious than the destination... or something like that.  
Stratos263: ****Yes. To make it clearer, it's the path Alaya decided to take when designing PANDORA as a Heroic Vessel to embody the project's goal to empathize with humans more. Given Heroic Vessel #01 is a Dark Souls character, I think it's a good continuation to give her this ability.  
Mo Eazy: ****A beautiful summary of the usual viewpoint and preparations of Heroic Vessel SHIROU.  
PanzerJ: Thank you, and hopefully you are safe. However, Hecate may have a different fate than you think...  
**

**A small challenge: Can you guess the sources of the last names I choose for the Character Sheet Update at the end?**

* * *

_**I am the bone of my sword**_  
_**Steel is my body, and fire is my blood**_  
_**My being is forged of infinite weapons**_  
_**Beyond life or death, surpassing time and space**_  
_**Rejecting emptiness, neglecting fulfillment**_  
_**Chaotic stillness's perpetuity, silent pandemonium's transience**_  
_**I dream only for an Unlimited Blade Works**_

For Heroic Vessels, having a Reality Marble was second nature. In fact, they theorized the innate ability to form one was a perquisite to be chosen by Alaya, disregarding their actual personalities' match with its vision. It symbolized their paradox – human, yet holding enough of an alien mentality they were able to judge other humans with objectivity, and sometimes from a fresh point of view than the rest. It showcased their souls were sufficiently stronger than the rest they were able to manifest in the World, as beacons of humanity's stance against the rules constraining them.

Their most versatile weapon, and also their greatest weakness.

Because of their increased affinities with their Reality Marbles, they were a direct extension to one's soul. Meaning, a powerful attack against one's soul would be able to irreparably damage said Heroic Vessel, if measures weren't taken against these kinds of offensive methods.

Even their own Knight Arms, designed and birthed to do just that to their opponents as a side effect, could harm themselves if activated within the Reality Marbles.

Of course, having the crazed idealism each one possessed, they quickly turned this disadvantage into a particularly unavoidable weapon: a suicide bomb.

A Knight Arm's full deployment inside a Reality Marble would collapse it at the cost of the user's existence… along with the enemies they contained within. Not even Alaya could protect its Heroic Vessels if they decided to end things this way, much less their opponents being able to evade or block this maneuver.

Inside these Reality Marbles, the Heroic Vessels _were_ gods. In exchange of having absolute control over every laws inside it, the Heroic Vessels' connection to them was increased to the maximum.

When deployed, it's advised to annihilate the enemies as fast as possible, before the latter realized this flaw.

Also, never engage against other Heroic Vessels with a fully-developed Knight Arms, because the optimal result would be mutual suicide.

And Alaya disliked wasting resources if it could help it.

* * *

_**Running in the wind, disarrayed; the fastest, night and day**_  
_**Never to step down, prospecting for the crown**_  
_**Not thieving, deceiving, conceiving; but achieving**_  
_**Things I dreamt were beneath a lid – the one the World forbid**_  
_**My masque, my lock – I shall open PANDORA's Box**_

Unlike Marble Phantasms, Reality Marbles held infinite varieties, just as much as how many parallel worlds and dimensions were out there. The same person, but born and raised under different circumstances, would theoretically develop different Reality Marbles, even if only a slight element wasn't in the same place.

Being the strongest didn't mean the best choice of becoming a Heroic Vessel. One's compatibility with [Humans] itself was also another key. If one wasn't powerful enough, no matter how they loved humanity, they would just be trampled over by those who loathed it. If one didn't care for [Humans] enough, then they would be the one to destroy it due to the sheer power they held within them.

A black sheep among whites didn't mean the entire flock was now ruined. A horde of evil didn't mean there's absolutely no chance for that one single exception.

Alaya's energy, other than being used for searching for these candidates, was used for the preservation of the Human Order. So long as humanity existed, they would be able to overturn any threats, even if the World was destroyed. [Humans] didn't need a pantheon, or an extraterrestrial threat, or an entire planet to themselves to unite and survive.

Realistically? That wouldn't happen. But that's why Heroic Vessels existed.

And that was why PANDORA was crushed under the weight of the responsibility. Neither was she strong nor empathetic enough to succeed, already apparent during her early formations as a Heroic Vessel.

* * *

Alaya had given up on her. Thus, she gave up on the idea of following its life codes too.

What struck Pandora the most inside her successor's Reality Marble wasn't how unnatural-looking it was – after all, all Reality Marbles were naturally unrealistic – but how fast somebody managed to lose their temper and ran at them while screaming.

"DDDDDDDDIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

A blonde buxom woman with golden armor charged furiously at them, open golden portals appearing around her and shooting out legendary weapons the caliber of Zeus's lightning.

'_She's fast!'_ Pandora panicked lightly after seeing the portals' summoning weapons shooting speed. At this rate, they'd reach Zeus and her in about… how many fractions of a second…? _'Must strengthen…!'_

However, before any one of them could move further than several feet, chains appeared from similar golden portals to wrap around them, halting their flight. The buxom blonde, too, was wrapped up… by SHIRŌ himself with his arms hugging her tight across the stomach.

"Gilgamesh… Patience. Watch and observe," he uttered softly into her ears, which caused her entire body to tense up. "I know how much you hated the gods, but don't rush things."

"But… They killed you! I shan't forgive them!" Despite this response, she gritted her teeth and did as asked.

This exchange allowed Pandora several more seconds to assess her new surroundings, as she'd never seen Unlimited Blade Works. She knew full well SHIRŌ was doing the exact same thing, so it's a race to collect as much information as possible.

For example, he'd already come to the right conclusion for this new blonde's attacks – that they wouldn't work due to the simple reason of the Reality Marble.

No, not SHIRŌ's. _PANDORA's_.

She was a step late in deploying her Reality Marbles against her successor. In this era, even without High-Speed Divine Words, they didn't really need to express the characteristics of their souls via the long arias usually necessary. In fact, more often than not, a sufficiently strong will was enough to partially summon their full strength. Added with speedy chanting techniques, which one of his wives must've taught him, it barely took the time of her own thoughts catching up with her reflexes for Unlimited Blade Works to fully manifest.

As a result, she was only able to expand Pandora's Box to her immediate vicinity, and even that was constantly being suppressed by the boundless scenery of blades.

Therefore, once the weapons entered her Reality Marble's boundary, they'd become hers to use.

"Are you calm now? Please, dissipate and let me fight them."

His words, as most Heroic Vessels did, had an instant effect on those they're close to. Blushing from the hug, Gilgamesh's previously-enraged expression mellowed out greatly, whispering, "Alright… They were your preys from the start, after all…"

She dissipated into golden lights amidst the jealous glares of the three women behind him. He pretended not to feel their intense gaze by challenging Pandora's own condescending one, though the not-so-sneaky scratching of the back of his head betrayed this façade.

If not for the fact they're tending to their respective goddesses, one of them might've shouted out their envy. In fact, Atalanta was about to do so, but stopped out of respect of Athena and Hecate, who were still immobile though healing quickly through their own means.

"**Calydon, give me your strength."**

Her jade-and-gold locks instantly turned white as liquid dark violet armor began to flow around her body, settling into a black skin-tight protective carapace. Tauropolos appeared out of thin air, but instead of settling in her hand, it floated in front of her, from where she braced against the bow with one heel and pulling the strings taut with a clenched fist.

"**Blazing Shadows. Hidden Moon. I offer this to the two Gods."**

Instead, she channelled her grumpiness into her own attack, this time made out of pure energy.

**Phoebus Catastrophe  
**_~ Descending Divine Revelation ~_

'_Oh, shi-'_

Before Pandora had the time to mentally complete her curse, the bolt was already nearing the boundary of her Reality Marble.

"Oh, she has to dodge that one," she coolly remarked when seeing Pandora moving Zeus out of the way.

\- KABOOM!

The ground some distance away exploded into nothingness, though it's not enough to permanently damage Unlimited Blade Works. As previously mentioned, one needed a soul-based attack to even think of dealing damage, much less harming a Heroic Vessel's soul through their own Reality Marbles.

The attack which caused her husband to worry about her so much, which made him expressed a facial reaction she never wanted to see.

Because she was too weak.

…but this time, she's different.

'_Watch how I vanquish my enemies…!'_

As expected, Pandora had to dodge, because the repossessing effect of her Reality Marble was limited to physical objects. Didn't matter how they're constructed – mundane things, Divine Spirits, or elemental remnants, as long as Pandora considered them to be 'tangible', she's able to quickly corrupt and make hers. This was the main ability she shared with her 'children', though naturally theirs was quite a bit weaker and required time and effort to maintain control.

That was the true nature of Pandora's Box. The infinite and insatiable container, forever cursed by future generations.

Of course, Atalanta left no time to reminisce about this information she'd just uncovered through sheer bestial instincts alone, having already flickered very close to Pandora's head and initiated the following attack point-blank.

**Phoebus Catastrophe  
**_~ Descending Divine Revelation ~_

With her hair now fully silver-white – the same shade she loved from gazing into Shirō's eyes all day when she was younger – the lance-like arrow beam fully engulfed Pandora and Zeus faster than even her husband could realize.

However, the current puppet of Pandora wasn't the King of Gods for nothing. Realizing the danger of the first attack, his body had already transformed into an intangible lightning energy, carrying Pandora along with him with a flash of black.

Unfortunately, _also_ because he's the King of Gods, he had instinctively forgotten about basic physics in real life. Granted, not even his current controller, Pandora, would be able to realize this fact after being used to her powers and dominance for so long.

Electromagnetic forces were naturally attracted to materials with the proper electron structure for them to flow freely. They'd always follow the path of least resistance… And thus, Zeus took on the form of a lightning _in the middle of a sea of metals_ in Unlimited Blade Works.

Of course, Shirō had to be careful of positioning his blades to avoid contact with Pandora's Box, still active despite the insane speed the two were moving with. Anything in their path needed to be unsummoned and relocated somewhere else, made more difficult by the sulking the souls inside the weapons were echoing inside his head, making his brain more like a complaint box.

Additionally, many Noble Phantasms were made out of 'metal' which weren't ferromagnetic at all, or were enchanted to not be so. Therefore, he must rearrange the entire field of battle to his advantage. Fortunately, however, he had a _much_ better memory and willingness to learn than his first ever wife, Gilgamesh, so other than burdening his mental faculty somewhat, it's not too disturbing in the middle of a high-speed battle.

Of course, having a woman who could keep up with Zeus's lightning form in terms of pure speed meant a lot. It's even better if there were _two of them_.

…because Medusa had already appeared right in front of the redirected bolt of lightning, Harpe cocked all the way back across her shoulder, aiming for an Anti-Divine homerun straight at Zeus's head.

The blades created a wavy path of least resistance right at where she was ready to intercept the person who technically was her grandfather.

As the last glitters of Bellerophon faded off – used to accelerate her body as fast as possible from a standing start earlier, Harpe slashed through with unparalleled speed and precision.

**Harpe  
**_~ Immortal-Slaying Scythe ~_

The few material things Pandora was unable to influence were those with Anti-Barrier or Anti-Magic properties. Naturally, those also had to possess enough Conceptual Weight to counter Pandora's own – otherwise, their fate would be the same as it ever was.

The weapon handed down by Athena, her mother, via Perseus's foolish folly, and Altered by her beloved man, certainly could do the job.

"**Break."**

Besides, if she was ever going to overuse her Monstrous Strength and break the damn weapon, why not do it in a place where she could get a replacement faster than she could breathe?

"Ngh…!" Pandora grunted, the strain of forcing Zeus to manoeuvre faster than he's used to in a manner truly belonging to vile beasts causing her a spiky headache. "You little…"

All this bullying stemmed from her being a step too late of summoning her own Reality Marble. If it was the other way around, despite her incomplete nature as a Heroic Vessel, she's confident of setting the battlefield according to her advantages. Now? It's burdening her main body to maintain a stable Reality Marble across a small space while controlling Zeus at the same time, with him being less-than-willing after the information of Hera's capture was revealed.

However, as if he was able to read her thoughts, she could hear SHIRŌ speaking across the scenery. "It wasn't because I'm faster or stronger than you, you know."

"SHUT UP! What do you know?!" Still trying her best to avoid Atalanta's and Medusa's combined, improved offensive power, Pandora shouted back.

"Everything, of course. I _am _a Heroic Vessel with all of my cheats available, after all," his voice sarcastically replied back with that infuriatingly calm tone. "Even while fighting with a puppet… you're all by your lonesome. _Too alone._"

"So what…?! Are you going to rub in your success?! If I had your fate, then…"

She could _hear_ him shaking his head. "It's not 'have'. 'Make'. _'Create'_. Weave our own fate, different from the looms of the Sisters of Fate. And that's not about strength or talents or skills or cheats."

\- BAM!

Both Pandora and Zeus were still zig-zagging between the never-ending monorail made of steel… until a kaleidoscopic beam of light punted them into the ground. The sudden stop made her brain rattle, but through the minor concussion, she could see SHIRŌ's last wife in the distance, still kneeling by the white-clad figure of Hecate, with her long staff pointing at the sky.

"…it's about character."

\- Step.

Before she could rotate her head to look at the pair of shoes landing in front of her, her opponent had already swung his Knight Arms.

"**Slash Emperor."**

At the same time, both of their Reality Marbles crumbled, but due to vastly different reasons.

* * *

"I was late. Apologies."

"There is… no need… for such formalities…" Athena replies, somewhat still struggling to speak after experiencing healing by Avalon inside Unlimited Blade Works. She was already in her oval, fluffy owl form to save as much energy as possible, being hugged near-to-death by her oldest daughter.

The irony didn't escape Hecate, who finally showcased a small impish smile at the squirming animal.

Noticing it, Medusa immediately protested and defended herself. "Now it's my turn to spoil Mother! Revenge! I shall have my vengeance!"

"I… think you… have the wrong… target…" Athena wheezed out, clearly reminiscing about the time a drunk Atalanta practically molested her in this form. "But… a-aren't you… too big?"

The adrenaline and magic energy remains were still flowing through the youngest Gorgon, meaning after the battle was over, she was stuck in her adult form. Previously, she was compressing her physical and magical signature to deliver a more efficient and effective offense, allowing her to match Zeus's lightning in speed and threaten him with Harpe. Now that everything's calm, the backlash was being safely vented out by using this form… leading to her bountiful breasts suffocating Athena's owl head, now without Metis.

They were all seated in the ruins of Athena's divine domain. While it's easily fixed by Magecraft, it required Athena, or even Hecate, a significant amount of energy to revert damage of this scale, due to the remaining concepts Pandora left behind during their fight.

The same energy she needed to heal right now. That's why renovations were pushed down the priority list at the moment.

Shirō had gone to Amazon to inform Hippolyta about what happened around Molpadia, with his _expectant_ face being the last memory he left the girls with. While his current wives didn't know the Amazonian Queen that well personally, they could already perceive the earful he'd receive for the danger her daughter was exposed to, even though it wasn't even his fault in the first place.

Only Athena held a knowing smile when he left, being the only one present who knew of Molpadia's true relation with Shirō.

However, that smile was completely missing from her current owl face, because she'd just inadvertently called her own daughter _fat_.

"Medusa, that's quite enough," Atalanta commanded strictly, extracting the flapping goddess from the Gorgon's embrace. However, before Athena could take a relieved breath, a similar constricting pressure squeezed around her, revealing itself to come from the Arcadian Queen's lithe arms. "It's my turn now."

"Mou! No fair!" Medusa childishly stomped on the ground, though her adult size meant the others were treated to a comical sight of her lashing out to grab one of Athena's wings and engage in an impromptu tug-of-war with Atalanta. "Gimme!"

"I think you have done enough with her. Do take a look."

"You spent enough time with her during your pre-wedding ceremony already!"

"I was drunk. I certainly did not remember how fluffy and soft Lady Athena's form was."

"You clearly did!"

\- Stttrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeettttttcccccccchhhhhhh…

'_Ah… is this how I die?'_ Meanwhile, Athena's mind had already gone beyond the pain, and was philosophically embracing a higher realm of thought through her [Wisdom]. _'Lady Hera, forgive me… I cannot see you one last time…'_

\- BOP! BOP!

""O-Ow…""

Medea could only look on with barely-hidden mirth in her eyes, as Hecate polished the ends of her khakkara which made serious contact with the two bickering women's head. The blank-faced Goddess of [Magic] looked on, before saying, "It's a shame _that thing_ appeared so suddenly. Had we had more time, I would've been able to study her further."

Scurrying to her fellow goddess's ankles in fright, Athena nodded, rolling her chubby owl head against Hecate's calf. "However that may be true, I feel addressing Pandora that way was one of the causes of her developing such enmity towards us."

"Agreed. Psychological trauma mustn't be excluded."

The suddenly-serious atmosphere turned the other women present sharp.

Medea, being the most knowledgeable about history and general Magecraft, was the first one to present her question, "Why did she attack so suddenly? Her minions' assault on various parties were often forewarned by large-scale changes across Greece, such as the change in Olympus and Amazons' governance. Even the last beast we dealt with attacked with a logical manner, because we're closely related to Shirō."

Athena immediately explained with the hypothesis she formed while battling Pandora, "You're looking at it from a different perspective. Instead of comparing her demons – though I'm not sure we can accurately categorize them like that – you should do so to your husband instead."

"What do you mean?" Atalanta's beast ears pricked up, craning her head downwards to eye Athena hungrily, who shivered under the intense _loving_ gaze.

"U-Uh… I mean… J-Jason does things quite suddenly often, right? Impulsively and irrationally, too, though that's just the outer appearance. A-Am I right?" The owl shuffled awkwardly with its short legs behind Hecate, covering herself with Hecate's billowing cloak. "Medusa, back me up here!"

"Uuu… Mother…" The girl in question was still longingly looking at the adorable animal, like a child who'd lost her stuffed toy and just saw the exact same one being held in another girl's arms.

'_T-These two are hopeless!'_ Athena sweatdropped internally, though obviously she had to maintain her dignity as a goddess outwardly. "Ahem… Now, I am not Lord Jason's patron, but having observed him alongside Medusa, as well as my new daughters, showed me they shared the same traits. I'm sure he's told you both… though not you, right, Hecate?"

"I gathered about as much during my time of recuperation," the stoic goddess noted. "What I know should be about the same as all of you. Let us check each other's knowledge in case we paint a false picture."

Shaking her head at her fellow wives' antics, Medea continued, "That is a plausible theory. From that, we can also explain her underlings' inconsistent behavior and powers – they were somewhat independent of Lady Pandora. Do you agree, Lady Athena?"

"Mhn-mn!" The owl, using her flexible neck, nodded vigorously and puffed up her collar, eliciting some "Ooh!"s and "Aah!"s from her two admirers. "While we can assume she holds the final control, her time in confinement – however weak it actually is – meant it's impossible for micromanage so many details at once, especially when we match up the timeline of her preparations." Fluttering the tips of her wings at the piercing stares of Atalanta and Medusa in nervousness, she added, "There are those which predates her silent takeover of Olympus, too."

Thinking of it from a historian's perspective, Pandora predated any living human being in Greece. However, following her almost-instant imprisonment in the heart of Mount Olympus, there should be a grace period where she was internalizing what had happened to her and gathering strength to find out what's going on outside, much less take over gods the caliber of Zeus.

Additionally, those… _things_ who called her 'Mother' must also have time to sufficiently grow to a level where they could threaten deities in any way. In fact, if not for those long ages they spent honing themselves, Atalanta's, Medusa's, and Medea's efforts would've been enough to overwhelm Goetia, removing the necessity of having 2 of the 3 S-Rankers in Greece to face him instead.

However, that's precisely why it felt so strange. Having accumulated power and schemed for so long, why did Pandora's latest actions seemed… rushed?

Yes, ambushing Athena to obtain Molpadia might be a good idea on the surface, but Pandora had no preparations apart from confidently blazing all in with her brute strength. For instance, if the first thing she did was to activate her Reality Marble inside Athena's domain, then the battle would've been over in a few seconds. While Shirō's own didn't specifically target divine beings, even he could achieve the same result – much less Pandora with her extreme hatred for them.

But she didn't, despite sharing the same general mindset towards her goals with Shirō – which was absolute conviction bordering on madness.

Therefore, did she have another scheme at hand? Even one which could succeed despite her death?

Or did she even die? Shirō's last blow was too dazzling for them to completely observe. When her life signature faded into nothingness, the girls were sure she'd perished – but someone escaping with Hecate's array of tricks could also produce the same reading.

"Those missing persons… We still have no clue of their location," Atalanta surly reminded everyone of the obvious, but often-forgotten fact.

Hera. Several high-ranking adventurers like Meleager. Who knew who else?

"There were those in Olympus and Tartarus who were uncontactable, including several powerful figures," Hecate pointed out. "If they were taken over…"

"Unlikely. Strong as Pandora might've been, her control would be stretched far too thin even with only Lord Zeus under her command," Athena shot down. "I suspect the fact she didn't pair him together with Poseidon in the _Argo_'s last expedition was because Lord Zeus hadn't fallen completely under her grasp like just now – the burden of having someone like Lord Hades as well would've been suicide."

"Come to think of it, didn't Sir Meleager…" Medea began, but her voice tailed off under a murderous glare from Atalanta. "S-Sorry…"

"Do not remind me of that hopeless fool." Atalanta harrumphed her face away, bitter at the thought of _that man_. "If Shirō was not here, then… The thought of me being together with him sickened me."

Sensing an opportunity of revenge, Athena spat out, "Eh… I think Artemis would disagree. I think he's a diligent and serious chap."

However, Hecate suddenly had her bout of sudden desire to joke, and reached behind her to grasp Athena's fluffy form. "Here you go."

As those owl eyes widened in shock as the transaction between her and the other two girls, Medea finally broke down and guffawed out loud, the sort of laughter her father would've frowned upon.

* * *

Somehow, despite communication between this place and the outside world being cut off, Meleager saw Hera's eyes _smile_. He couldn't see her mouth because it's covered up in special silencing spells to shut her constant taunts – who knew the famously gentle, motherly goddess could curse so well? – but combining that sight with her shaking shoulders, it's easy to summarize what's going on.

His answer was confirmed when Pandora barreled into the room from the wall, having apparently teleported herself next door, where the physical essence of her last 2 tomes were kept.

No, to be more exact, one of those two, or even both, took on her form as the main physical body was killed. Because the soul imprinted its shape on the body, thus the remnants of her soul reshaped themselves using the available mediums.

It's a risky strategy. While this allowed her to regain strength the moment Ars Goetia, Notoria, and Theurgia were defeated, it also enabled a window of opportunity to strike all her soul remnants simultaneously, especially if she just used her Reality Marble. That's why she was pissed off Alaya, despite all her preparations, managed to do just that _three times in a row_ without her being able to do anything.

He eyed the other adventurers who'd gathered in the room to supervise Hera, but their expressions were as impassive as always.

In fact, didn't it feel he's the only one who could still properly emote after joining Pandora's faction?

…well, that's not entirely accurate, because there were others – non-adventurers – who weren't present. Let's just say it's only true among those present.

Getting back to the point, was Pandora's powers too much for them? Or was he simply… _special_?

'Special' didn't seem to be enough to woo Atalanta's heart, however.

Right now, the chance of being more than 'special' laid in front of him, weak and ragged and vulnerable.

Should he take it? Or should he do the rational thing and support the ship he's on, instead of staging a mutiny and making it his own?

Nearby, Hera's expression changed unnoticed.

"Olympus… be damned…" Pandora grumbled, picking herself off and shedding the fluid sticking to her skin. It was the remains of the large container keeping the last tomes under control, so they wouldn't gain sentience prematurely and act rashly like Notoria. "Alaya can piss off, too…"

To Meleager, this little girl might've been speaking rubbish, because terms such as 'Alaya' and 'Counter Force' were virtually unheard of in this Age of Gods. When humanity was taught since birth they were inferior to the deities in Olympus, as well as the monsters and beasts threatening them almost daily in the frontiers, acceptance grew within them and limited their mental potential to grow outside of their pre-determined boxes.

However, one thing he _did _know: Pandora had never been weaker than this occasion in front of him, for as long as he'd known her.

"**Don't even fuckin' **_**think**_** about it."**

Pandora, too, wasn't a former Heroic Vessel for nothing. While their powers weren't exactly telepathy, their innate ability to empathize with humans were a close alternative. After all, the words of the hearts ring truer than the surface thoughts of the brain.

She had been betrayed all her life, and had thus betrayed others too. It'd be foolish of her to let her guard down just because somebody weaker than her fell into her thrall, especially the stronger the pawns she gathered, the more impactful they'd be not just on the global chessboard she's now playing against SHIRŌ, but also to her own side.

Her one sentence sent back the greed flowing up his throat from the inky darkness of his imaginary belly, before he realized he'd taken a half step forward menacingly. He bowed lightly, then retreated back to Hera's side, feigning obedience once again.

It seemed to work. A lifetime of suppressing his carnal desires had served him well this time.

After several minutes, with a grunt, Pandora finally heaved her new body off the floor, having spent a large amount of that time getting used to how Ars Paulina maintained its body. Each of her tome, while a part of her, wasn't made of the same part or in the same way. And though she had intimate knowledge of their construct, it's a different matter living her life inside one herself.

Ars Paulina was put to slumber beside her new soul core, their compatible physiques meant it's not a particularly dangerous step to perform.

"Besides, do you think she'll accept you if you devour me? Your form will change so much it'll become disgusting to any human being, fool." Going back to her normal tone of voice, Pandora eyed him. "Believe me, my way of doing things will certainly be able to persuade her for leaving that annoying husband of hers."

Whether Meleager actually trusted that sentence or not, she's not sure. Besides, he's willingly serving her for practically something useless, anyway. For his lack of desire to learn about things outside of Greek Mythology, and his single-minded focus to Atalanta, he failed to recognize how a human being who'd connected deep enough with a Heroic Vessel to gain Dream Cycles and knowledge directly from Alaya wouldn't be swayed that easily.

The effects of it would surpass even the limitations and restrictions of the Throne of Heroes – and yes, that's basically the power of _sex_, and almost nothing else.

To have this man admit his sexual prowess might not be up to par would be too cruel, even for Pandora's standards.

Stretching her back outwards, she finally addressed her most precious captive, "Now, let's-"

\- BOOM!

Of course, that's if fate allowed her to do so in the first place.

* * *

\- BOOM!

"Hoh… So you're really here. Just like he said," Herakles muttered, holding the weakened Pandora by the scruff of her neck, literally. "…what? Dissatisfied? Don't blame me."

The rest of the _Argo_'s crew stormed in through the massive hole made by Herakles on the periphery of Pandora's compound. Situated near the borders of the Hittite Empire, where Olympus's influence was weak, it's hidden in a beach alcove connected to a large cavernous space below the ocean surface. Orpheus, a newly-acquired member, had used his musical skills to request the sea nymphs around the area to reveal the place… before Herakles blasted the outer bedrock to pieces with his ballista-sized bow and arrow.

Amusingly, it was weakly defended physically. Such a contrast to Pandora's former residence, the Mount of Olympus – to the point a purely physical force was able to bypass its outer borders. Or was it coincidentally its weakness? That Pandora focused so much on preventing Olympus's and Alaya's scrying she missed on putting up countermeasures against brute-force methods like this?

Meleager was quickly taken down by both Theseus and Peleus, despite his physical advantages over them due to his youth. He was mentally distracted from his conversations with Pandora beforehand, and thus weren't quite prepared against a combined attack from these two veterans. In fact, it went by so quick Hera wasn't able to recognize what's going on – such was the instant chaos Herakles and the _Argo _brought.

Before Pandora could reply with another witty remark, Asclepius's snake had already shot into her mouth and slithered all the way to the center of her body, forcing her faculties to focus on preventing being taken over – an irony, considering it's her favored tactic for her 'pawns'. Occupying both the physical and spiritual realm, the snake was the amalgamation of the healer's knowledge of life and death, to the point he made the effort to study other pantheons and cultures to perfect his understanding.

\- Step. Step. Step.

Finally, as the Guild Master himself walked in in his centaur form, the rest of the _Argo_'s crew finished taking care of the missing adventurers. Since they mostly derived their thought process from Pandora's orders, having broken themselves by imbibing in her powers to fulfil their desires. To frank, to Chiron, they're not worth considering – disregarding their actual rank, true talents would've been able to accomplish at least what Meleager did, which was to keep their hearts their own.

Unfortunately, however, the news of a Guild Master who abandoned his own men just because they're 'not worth it' wouldn't be viewed as well as a heroic leader who 'left no one behind'. Therefore, he had to make the effort to achieve what the other S-Ranker adventurer not present always did: the perfect ending, where these turncoats would be rescued without injury and treated until they're 'healed'.

Eyeing the restrained and gagged Pandora coldly, Chiron read the emotion in her eyes and replied, "What? Do you expect us to entertain your grand plan of a climactic battle in a grand place – both elements under your control? Of course not. This was the side of heroism you've never seen: the anticlimactic one."

"Oi, you're doing a bad job with that gag," Herakles warned one of the crews harshly. "They'll choke sooner or later like that – you should master the way of shutting them up properly without hurting them, ya' know. It'll affect our evaluation and pay later."

Chiron and Pandora shifted their attention to the people in question, where they were being wrapped up quickly by the incredible efficiency of the _Argo_'s crew.

Certainly, the centaur's words were projected through the treatment they gave this ambush. Instead of talking and gloating and demanding things, the _Argo_ silently came, did their job, and packed things up before they left. Pandora practically didn't have time to curse or resist before she's summarily tossed into Chiron's Spatial Bag and sealed for further processing.

Of course, this very one was specially modified using the information Jason had given him about this particular villain – along with her restraints earlier and method of action – or she would've been able to blast through it given enough time, despite her weakened state. The knowledge she gained by going through the process of being a Heroic Vessel wasn't a waste, after all.

For her who could [Corrupt] endlessly, even beings like Zeus, a conceptual prison was ideal, though even that wouldn't be enough if one picked the wrong attribute to imprison her in.

Incredibly, some Protogenoi came forth and contacted Chiron with their own… _unique _ways, such as Pontus shortly after the destruction of Atlantis. Why they did that, Chiron would never know – those primordial beings had their own sense of the world around them, even though Olympians were technically the descendants of their _own_ hated descendants, who'd overthrown them nearly the dawn of time.

From what he gathered, these beings didn't even contact Jason, who had the most relevant experience 'on the ground', but directly to him: the last remaining member of an extinct species, whose good reputation circulated solely in adventurers' and heroes' circles. Just look at Atalanta, who he'd never gotten along with even until now, with her newfound maturity as the Queen of Arcadia.

It was their collaboration which made arresting Pandora so easy.

Originally, if Chiron was the one who wielded her powers, he absolutely would've done things differently. Why didn't she consolidate her position in Mount Olympus first before allowing her creations to roam wild in the world, noticing them of her intentions? Why didn't she use the Flames of Olympus to-

'_Oh, wait…'_

"Chiron, out of the way!"

\- BANG!

Herakles's shoving palm came to late, as his side was engulfed in azure flames made of pure energy.

* * *

**Character Sheet Update!**

* * *

**A**

* * *

**Atalanta Arcadia-Artemisia **

**Title: Fleet-foot Huntress  
Predicted Class: Archer, Berserker  
Gender: Female  
Height: 166 cm  
Weight: 57 kg **

**Alignment: Neutral Good **

**Strength: C++  
Endurance: C++  
Agility: A+  
Mana: B  
Luck: C  
Noble Phantasm: A**

* * *

**Class/Personal Skills: **

**Aesthetics of the Last Spurt: B**  
A special movement-based ability which automatically places Atalanta in locations best-served to counter her opponents. The opponents need to move first, before Atalanta herself does. It's not to the point of 'reality warping', but time and space are merely compressed to a point where her movement is perceived as instantaneous. Killing intent from her opponents is necessary to activate this ability.

**Animalistic Logic: B**  
A combative way of thinking resulting from transforming into a beast. It's not useful for finding weak points, but the speed of thinking focusing on killing the enemy swiftly increases. If combined with the skill Self Evolution, the speed to defeat an opponent increase even further.

**Beastly Enhancement (Divine): A**  
When wearing the hide of the Calydonian Boar under the blessing of Artemis and Apollo, Atalanta is able to assume a partial animalistic transformation, which greatly enhances all her physical attributes. No mental penalty is applied, though the Magical Energy consumption is relatively immense compared to her natural usage. Rank-Up to all parameters around wide expanses of nature.

**Crossing Arcadia: A**  
A special movement-based ability which, oddly, requires its practitioner to have an obstacle in front of them. By designating these 'objects', either organic or inorganic, Atalanta is able to move across large distances with a move more similar to spatial manipulation, rather than outright physical ability. Said 'objects' must be visually confirmed to be used. If the targets are moving, she must register them within her consciousness and continually track them.

**Independent Action: A+**  
A manifestation of Atalanta's independent spirit since she was a child. As a result, she can operate freely without a constant source of magical energy, since her method of absorbing Mana from the environment is far superior than anyone else, combined with her extremely efficient energy consumption. Unleashing large amounts of Magical Energy is of no issue over lengthy periods.

**Magic Resistance: C+**  
Cancel spells with a chant below two verses. Atalanta has remarkable additional resistance against spells which manipulate nature, or those which comes directly from nature.

**Self-Evolution: EX**  
Surpassing Self Modification, it's a skill which reforms oneself. In order to overcome any kind of objective in the way of accomplishing one's goals, they keep evolving in mere seconds. However, it has the demerit of having a lower mark than Self Modification, concerning its applicability to anything more than the specialization towards the user's goals.

* * *

**Noble Phantasms **

**Phoebus Catastrophe: Descending Divine Revelation  
Rank: A  
Type: Anti-Unit, Anti-Army  
Range: 2~50  
Max. Targets: 100**

The crystallization of the blessings of two deities upon Atalanta. Having gained favor from Apollo, the God of Archery, and Artemis, the Goddess of Hunting, she is able to materialize a powerful divine arrow, before releasing it using a fully-strung Tauropolos. She can manipulate this arrow either to scatter it into innumerable pieces or focus it into a sure-kill single-strike death blow. The only known way to defend against it is to prevent Tauropolos's string being strung fully, or else even a high Magic Resistance or movement-based skills cannot fully prevent a strike.

Based on the legend of the slaughter of Niobe's children, this Noble Phantasm's background is the opposite of Atalanta's personality and ideals, as she aspires always to protect innocent children. No matter how irate Apollo and Artemis was, Atalanta, to this day, still condemned the two of them for this incident. Only her closeness to the two deities prevented them from outright ripping this blessing away from her.

A strike with [Divine] and [Nature] attribute – both concepts containing multiple smaller ones – it has great advantage against most types of enemies, particularly those of demonic and artificial/mechanical attributes. Its effects are ineffective against [Holy]- or [Light]-based opponents. Despite so, its sheer physical strength is more than enough to pierce through B-Ranked Endurance attribute, even when scattered. When focused, no known physical barrier is able to stop this arrow, bar outright spatial or temporal displacement.

**Tauropolos Skia Thermokrasia: Somber Sky's Eclipse  
Rank: A+  
Type: Anti-Unit  
Range: 1~99  
Max. Targets: 1 **

Consuming the energy usually reserved for Phoebus Catastrophe, Atalanta disintegrates Tauropolos into herself, turning her into both a [Bow] and [Arrow]. The ultimate physical force, usually required to cross great distances and area, is entirely contained and focused within herself, giving Atalanta an unprecedented level of physical ability. Not even Herakles, with his famed endurance and defense, can withstand a bout with her in this state.

Usually considered a suicidal tactic, the act of using oneself to enact an external Noble Phantasm burdens her body greatly. Therefore, she often needs to activate Agrius Metamorphosis first to turn her body into an appropriate 'vessel' for the amount of energy it will contain. This skill has little natural enemy; only those with extremely powerful Anti-Magic methods can hope to survive.

Unlike her usual disposition, this Noble Phantasm is the crystallization of the hatred and pain she endured in her childhood, having been abandoned to the mercy of the wilderness by her family, as well as the pressure and constrains they forced upon her in during her adulthood. It results in a vile side effect: successful kills will absorb the enemy's being and digest them into energy, driving Atalanta further off the edge.

**Agrius Metamorphosis: Boar of Divine Ordeal  
Rank: A  
Type: Support  
Range: 0  
Max. Targets: 1 **

The pelt of the Calydonian Boar, sent by Artemis to punish Calydon's king for neglecting his offerings to her in a harvest festival. A large and brutal beast created to rampage without pause, killing many heroes and destroying corps, it was brought down by the combined effort of powerful adventurers, culminating in the final killing shot from Atalanta.

The differing method in which she attained this item results in differing drawbacks granted by the usage of its power. Other than granting her the status of 'Monstrous Human' and vastly boosting her physical parameters, it also gives her a heavy [Anti-Human] attribute, as the Boar was created for the sole purpose of punishing humans. However, as it was secretly a test sent by Artemis to judge the worth of her chief priestess and heroine, it lacks the ability to harm Atalanta's body and mind, unlike the original.

While using the pelt, Atalanta's bestial nature is enhanced, accompanied with various physical changes which embarrass her greatly. She doesn't like talking about it, and using it in front of people she lacks trust in is out of the question.

* * *

**Character Description **

The royal princess of Arcadia, though she herself loathes her status and title, simply because how her father treated her as a child, along with the 'responsibilities' she must manage in her adulthood due to them. Raised by animals and nature in general since she was a baby, she was greatly in tune with the flow of natural energy, about on par with SHIRŌ's usage of Pure Eyes.

The first two humans she has contact with was her uncle, Ancaeus, and SHIRŌ. Her uncle was the one who taught her actual hunting and survival skills, as a proxy for Artemis, who took pity on her and decided to bless her. They lived peacefully for a few years, until the centaurs Hylaeus and Rhoecus assaulted the pair in an attempt to rape the beautiful Atalanta. They were pushed to the brink of despair before SHIRŌ saved them, which ignited the romance between the young wild maiden and the exiled prince.

Her achievements as an adventurer didn't go unnoticed by her patron goddess, Artemis, and her brother, Apollo. For furthering their reputation and representing them in a proper way, the deities rewarded her with lavish blessings and items. As she grows older, and her strength improves unabated, her bestial characteristics turns semi-permanent, as a showcase of her closeness to divinity without outright being a demigod. She eventually assumed her father's throne, but not before it was merged with Iolchos as part of her marriage, creating a super-state which rivals Greece's 'Big Three'.

* * *

**M**

* * *

**Medea Egrisia **

**Title: Grand Witch  
Predicted Class: Caster  
Gender: Female  
Height: 149~163 cm  
Weight: 41~51 kg **

**Alignment: Lawful Neutral **

**Strength: E  
Endurance: D+  
Agility: C  
Mana: EX  
Luck: A  
Noble Phantasm: B+**

* * *

**Class/Personal Skills: **

**Argon Coin – Golden Fleece: EX**  
The pelt of the golden-furred winged ram of Colchis. While normally wearable as a coat, when used, it functioned as an instant dragon-summoning spell without the need of any other catalyst. The strength of the dragon, and the number summoned, depended on the amount of Magic Energy poured in; its current highest limit were Divine Beast-ranked dragons. The summoned dragons might not obey Medea; a close, respectful working relationship was necessary beforehand.

**High-Speed Divine Words: A**  
A skill which bypassed the need of Magic Circuits, letting Medea cast High Thaumaturgies at the speed of Single-Action spells.

**Item Construction: A+**  
Being the student of the Goddess of Magic, Medea inherited many magic item production techniques, including, but not limited to: partial-immortality potions, 'smart' independent golems, divine-grade equipment, and so on. She was able to repair mid-tier Noble Phantasms perfectly from destruction, with a chance of capably fixing a high-levelled one with non-fatal damage.

**Poison Resistance: A~A++**  
Medea was an excellent healer, and thus invalidates most poisons she ingested. When applied to another, due to a greater window of precision, her rank increased during treatment, enabling her to not only cure all poisons, but also restore their physical strength.

**Romance of the Sea Foam: A**  
A skill which enhanced Medea's strength depending on her emotional condition. When accompanied by the people she loved the most, her Magecraft increased tremendously in potency, though the pink cloud of love blurred her precision somewhat. Its fleeting nature was inspired by the fragility of bubbles: beautiful and stable when calm, fierce and explosive when triggered.

**Territory Creation: A**  
Medea was able to create a Temple, which not only automatically gather Magic Energy for her and her comrades' use, but also significantly boost her Magecraft's power and efficiency. A decently-sized leyline was necessary for initial construction.

* * *

**Noble Phantasms: **

**Rule Breaker: Binding Destroyer  
Rank: B+  
Type: Anti-Thaumaturgy  
Range: 1  
Max. Targets: 1 **

Greatly differing from other Noble Phantasms, this conceptual ritual tool's unique ability is that it is the ultimate Anti-Magic Noble Phantasm capable of dispelling and destroying any kind of thaumaturgy. It 'transgressed' on all the Magecraft of the targets it pierced, contracts made from magical energy, and life born from magical energy. Once it came into contact with the ensorcelled item or person, enchantments, connections bounded through contracts, and creatures created and maintained by magical energy, they would all be returned to their original components in a state 'before they were made'. Contracts would be wiped clean and those with life will immediately cease to exist.

A symbol of Medea's potential future; yet strengthened by the changes she made to her current self. Now, it represented her steadfast desire to protect those around her, even her enemies, which nullified their attacks gently and non-fatally. In fact, its jagged, brittle shape was unsuited to harm anything in the first place. However, it was strengthened by her husband somewhat to use as a means of self-defense.

As a ritual centerpiece, its strength was comparable to high-class items, such as divine fluids and connate universal elementals. This improved version had a chance of completely destroying a low-level Noble Phantasm, or one effect of a mid-tiered one. When Broken, Medea's skill in Item Construction was able to repair it after a period of time, creating a continuous-use Anti-Magic projectile weapon.

**Pain Breaker: Harm Rewind  
Rank: B+  
Type: Support, Anti-Thaumaturgy  
Range: 1  
Max. Targets: 1 **

If Rule Breaker was the crystallization of her will to protect, then Pain Breaker was the crystallization of her loving nature. In a similar manner to its counterpart, it returned any and all curses and injuries by means of Magecraft to zero. It performed automatic repairs not by means of time manipulation, but by calculating the proper figure one originally had. For those who do not know any better, it would just look like the rewinding of time. It could abolish any and all unreasonableness other than 'death', which it only temporarily animated instead, allowing the bereaved a chance to say their final goodbyes.

It had no physical form, merely a Mystery residing in Medea's body and favored staff, though the latter was not vital and could be replaced over time. She created this technique after her loved ones were horrifically injured, and her desperation lifted it into the realm of the gods. This was a cheat-like skill with no perquisite of medical knowledge or techniques, angering Chiron and Asclepius as a result.

* * *

**Character Description **

The spoiled princess of Colchis, who lived a sheltered life since she was born, living a life without want. Sweet and trusting of others, people might say she's gullible and naïve, but the façade hid an intellectual and scheming mind, able to discern a person's true nature by way of observation. She disliked this part of her, thinking it got in the way of her 'making friends'.

The isolated nature of the Kingdom of Colchis spurred her desire to travel and 'see the outside world', which resulted in her escape from home, aided by her senior apprentice, and adventured for a few years, where she found her true love. However, this escapade didn't come down well with her father, who required both political pressure and a personal threat from his beloved daughter to consent to her eventual marriage. Over time, she grew to a confident but humble queen, while also furthering the Age of Gods' Magecraft to a new level.

An excellent witch, she grew to be among the best five magi in her era. Comparing her to a modern-day magus was akin to comparing a dragon with an earthworm, such was the discrepancy in skill. Not even Circe was able to best her in an all-out match. Those better than her included Hecate, the Goddess of Magic and her teacher. She was able to use her Magecraft in any range, though attacks faster than her admittedly average (relative to other heroes) reaction skills would trouble her.

* * *

**Medousiana Gorgon **

**Title: Bewitching Golden Serpent  
Predicted Class: Rider, Lancer, Beast, Avenger  
Gender: Female  
Height: 134~172 cm  
Weight: 30~57 kg **

**Alignment: Chaotic Good **

**Strength: A++  
Endurance: A++  
Agility: A  
Mana: B  
Luck: C  
Noble Phantasm: A+**

* * *

**Class/Personal Skills: **

**Alluring Nightingale: A**  
A remnant of her times with Stheno and Euryale, when they sang and played without care in the world. Her beautiful voice mesmerized those around her involuntarily, created by her natural vocal constitution. It's difficult to control and direct. Those with a high enough rank in Magic Resistance might be able to resist it for prolonged periods of time.

**Demon of Mutation: A**  
A Skill that denotes how Medusa was transformed into a demon in life. It unlocked the World's 'limiter' on her growth regarding her physical attributes, which was logically impossible for a vessel of her quality.

**Goddess's Divine Care: A**  
A paradoxical skill, one which expressed Medusa as a perfected goddess from birth, as she was both a goddess and a Demonic Beast at the same time. However, she slowly harmonized the two aspects within her as she matured, allowing her to keep her identity as a Divine Spirit. Technically, she was Athena's daughter, though not born from the goddess's flesh, and therefore held the same rank as most demigods. A composite Skill that comprises the Skill [Divinity], preserved the absoluteness of the mind and the body and repelled all mental interference.

**Independent Action: B+**  
Medusa could survive for roughly two days without a Master's support. However, with her nature as a bloodsucker, she could extend this period indefinitely, provided enough supply of magic-rich blood.

**Magic Resistance: A**  
Cancel spells of A-Rank or below, no matter what High-Thaumaturgy it was. In practice, Medusa was untouchable to modern magi, so it would not be an exaggeration to title her a 'Magus Killer'. Originally of a lower rank, the achievement in harmonizing both her [Divine] self and [Demon] self led to a great magical defense. Even without this skill, her body was durable enough to survive a direct hit from a High-Thaumaturgy spell.

**Monstrous Strength: A+**  
Medusa's birthright, one her sisters did not possess due to their 'perfection'. It granted her a great boost in Conceptual Weight and physical attributes, and with enough training, didn't impair her mental capacity in the slightest after she accepted both her [Divine] and [Demon] parts. This skill also influenced her weapons, allowing her to control them as if a part of her own body.

**Mystic Eyes: A++**  
The Jewel-ranked Mystic Eyes, Cybele, were considered the rarest and most coveted in the world, enough to tempt the deities to chase after it, as it's not something they possessed. Born due to Medusa's 'mutation', which also granted her the dual attribute of [Divine] and [Demon], it was able to instantly petrify anyone with B-ranked Mana or lower, regardless of their state of caution, and curse those more powerful with a rank-down to all parameters. It was constantly active.

**Riding: A+**  
All vehicles and all creatures up to the level of Phantasmal Beast and Divine Beast could be used as mounts. However, that does not apply to members of the Dragon Kind. This skill perhaps stemmed from Medusa's own similarity with her mounts.

**Scream of Fear: A++**  
A roar which aroused another's instinctive awe as a living being. Medusa, utilizing her Gorgon's side, bestowed numerous status ailments against her opponents. It was able to instantly kill those whose mental strength wasn't strong enough.

* * *

**Noble Phantasms: **

**Bellerophon: Gilded Motor  
Rank: A++  
Type: Support  
Range: 1  
Max. Targets: 1 **

Medusa's bridle-and-whip set to complement her partnership with Alicorn, crafted by her beloved husband himself. Using the shed skin of her serpentine form, left over after several transformations – aging and de-aging did that – as well as other mystical materials from the wastes of mythical beings, it in itself was near-indestructible, perfect to be paired with Phantasmal Species with great power but risky collateral damage. It improved Medusa's [Riding] skills beyond its limits, allowing her somewhat partial control to even the Dragon Kind, provided they had prior mutual understanding.

Simply shaped and without any other decorations, apart from its naturally golden color, it boosted the physical and magical characteristics of any living being it's placed on. While enforced control was possible with enough pressure, Medusa disliked using this ability, holding on to the philosophy of mutual partnership, instead of slavery. However, a similar passive ability remained constantly active, subtly enhancing her image in front of any being she wished to tame and ride.

The level of parameter increase depended on Medusa's familiarity with her mounts, as well as the cooperation – or undying loyalty – of the latter. When equipped to a Phantasmal Species, it would directly rank up by one level – for instance, a Monstrous Species would transform into its equivalent evolution as a Phantasmal Beast – excluding any support from Medusa herself. Its strongest usage was usually in the form of an all-out charge, when the mount raged to the utmost and transformed into a mighty comet, decimating enemies over a wide area. Its charge was near-unstoppable, barring special defensive circumstances. Medusa was nigh-invulnerable in this position.

**Breaker Gorgon: Self-Sealing Temple  
Rank: B  
Type: Support  
Range: 0  
Max. Targets: 1 **

Medusa's stylish blindfold, containing a World-level Bounded Field which was able to seal any and all magical phenomena. She usually used it to control her always-active Cybele, though when used on others, she was able to trap their consciousness within her own mind, manipulating their senses as she pleased. Physical contact was unnecessary to activate its effects.

It was remodeled and improved from its original version by using materials from Kibisis, enabling greater efficiency and function. For instance, it no longer took on the shape of a blindfold, and was able to temporarily reverse its effects to boost Cybele's powers instead. As it didn't constrain Medusa's sight, she was able to interact normally with others, though sometimes she shifted its shape when she's shy to avoid eye-contact with others.

**Pandemonium Cestus: Blood Temple of Thousand Demon Eyes  
Rank: A+  
Type: Anti-Army, Support  
Range: 1~60  
Max. Targets: 400 **

A Boundary Field on the level of Marble Phantasms, created by amplifying and projecting the effect of a perfected Cybele over a large area. It's a palace of darkness, dyed crimson with blood, blotting the sun itself. Anyone targeted within it was automatically robbed of their lives, turning them into Medusa's sustenance. With training and experience, even Divine Spirits were greatly affected by its life-absorbing effects.

A crystallization of Medusa's greatest nightmare and trauma, of the night she devoured her sisters and her vision was dyed red. It symbolized her [Demon] self, of a monster starved of human flesh and blood, one which killed her sisters and nearly devoured her 'mother'. As a result, it was difficult for her to master this ability without confronting these memories first.

**Harpe: Immortal-Slaying Scythe  
Rank: B+  
Type: Anti-Unit  
Range: 3~10  
Max. Targets: 2 **

A divine blade possessing the attribute [Refraction of Longevity]. Able to nullify the undying attributes of immortals, it was extremely effective against deities and demons alike. The wounds it inflicted couldn't be restored by any other methods other than healing in accordance to natural laws.

Since it came in the form of a scythe – i.e. with the blade facing its wielder – it's a difficult weapon to use and master. Itself not an outstanding blade, its physical properties were Reinforced and Altered by Heroic Vessel SHIRŌ to be a weapon suitable for Medusa's unnatural strength.

Medusa's strongest blow with this weapon was called the 'Caress of the Medusa', which utilized the Second Magic to focus the strength of her future and alternate selves into one mortal blow. It had high [Anti-Divine] and [Anti-Demon] attributes applied to it, and defenses containing both attributes were rendered ineffective.

* * *

**Character Description **

Born from the wishes of mankind for an 'ideal goddess', Medusa was instead corrupted during birth by the impure and perverse desire of man along with them, unlike her sisters, she was mortal, though this resulted in a completely different kind of 'beauty' her sisters possessed. After their death and subsequent personal salvation by her 'mother' and future husband, she travelled the world to atone for her atrocious deeds, done when she didn't realize what they were.

Her development was characterized by her constant struggles to accept her other side, the Gorgon, and her sisters' haunting memories. Unlike her original self, she had plenty of companions to both share and support her in this struggle, and after many years, she succeeded, becoming one of the strongest mortals in her era. She was Herakles's equal if both of them fought all-out, though his experience in killing monsters gave him the edge. However, given a few more years, it's likely she'd surpass him soon.

Though the Gorgon had the potential to be a Demonic Beast at the level of Tiamat, its amalgamation with Medusa's [Divine] side dulled its utmost talents. Still, she was a 'Queen of Magical Beasts', able to quickly bond with almost any creature, including those of the Dragon Kind. When she ascended to the pantheon of Olympus, only then did she attain the rank of a 'Primordial Deity of Beasts', replacing Echidna, who held it previously.


	39. Breaking the Box

**Hey, everyone! Been able to do some nice work in my new office, so this chapter comes out earlier than expected. Do note this chapter has several subtle references, so do try and dig deeper than what I've written on the surface! **

**Lately, I've been enjoying the Final Fantasy series, owing to the Remake just coming out. While it can be graphically another step up, it's already a great game as it is just from the wealth of content in it. Let's hope the next Heaven's Feel movie doesn't get delayed as long as this game...  
**

**BlackKnightRai: Thank you for your concern for Chiron. I shall receive it in his place. Also, because I haven't had the chance to address your harem requests previously, I have to be the meanie and declare his harem won't get any bigger. Since this story is coming to an end and I haven't done anything about that, you should've gotten the idea some time ago. Sorry for disappointing you.  
royal freshness12345: Yup. It's my favorite Nasuverse weapon as well, since I always picture this fanfic's MC as a past Aristoteles.  
Issei ODR: ****Glad you noticed. The fact will be reinforced in the upcoming chapters, so look forward to it!  
XXAlter: (****1) Yes, the proper wording is "Goddess's Divine Care". You should look it up in TYPE-MOON's wikia page. (2) As we see with various versions of Servants in FGO, the class and alignment of any Servant depends on the Master. That's why I put in the word 'predicted' to precede 'class'. There's a good chance she might be summoned by Dark Sakura and became a Beast just like that with the Holy Grail influence. Because the possibility isn't zero, I put it in anyway. Additionally, thanks to your review, I've just realized I forgot to put in another Class. The chapter should be edited when you've received this PM.**

**Now, as that last mailbag indicated (I know there are those among you who skips it, just like me), there's some changes to the previous chapter's Character Sheet Update. See if you can find the addition!**

* * *

Compared to the hardships they experienced the first time they sailed on the _Argo_, this trip could be considered a luxurious cruise instead.

Pollux was letting her long blonde hair float about in the wind, leaning on her familiar spot by the aft railing, enjoying the slightly different salty tang in the air around the area. Previously, they were too rushed in order to reach Atlantis in time, thus they activated the _Argo_'s maximum enchantments with wanton disregard of the trip's actual enjoyment.

Well, it's not as if she didn't enjoy herself during that fated raid. Blood, gore, sweat, magic… what's not to like? The rush of… well, _rushing_ down her enemies in a tight corridor was like nothing else in the world ― arranged duels paled in comparison to the actual heightened sense of mortality in the battlefield.

Perhaps that's why she's rather unpopular among the men? Was she too vicious? But Lady Atalanta was doing fine in her marriage… And her brother sworn otherwise, despite the overwhelming evidence and fact she's still unapproached by any males in her life.

…or was Castor the problem?

In any case, her musing was interrupted by muffled moans of pleasure escaping from the gaps between the wooden boards from below deck.

She blushed, her mind temporarily forgetting the entire _Argo_ was designed to allow easier execution of Mysteries, and putting up a silencing spell around a room was child's play for someone like Medea. Her fingers twitched in temptation, though she managed to stop herself from letting them travel downwards between her thighs… like she'd done many times before when she 'incidentally' awakened at night and walked near Lord Jason's room…

'_Coming down from Olympus to the mortal realm is certainly a good idea…'_ she soothed herself in her mind.

Compared to the main deities, the penalty for someone like her – despite her highly pure [Divinity] – to stay in prolonged periods in the mortal realm wasn't as severe, particularly because she trained her body from the start without relying on her divine heritage. Following her more boisterous but callous brother, she focused on the arts of the sword… because it looked cool. She felt her talents lied elsewhere, but if her talent was enough to allow her to indulge in her fantasies…

She shook her head furiously to cool off her rapidly-heating face, making her golden sword jingle in its sheathe by her hip.

\- Hiss…

"Kyah!" Emitting a cute scream, she vaulted over the railing and landed feet-first on top of it, swinging her sword one-handed backwards in reflex.

\- Clang!

It didn't even penetrate the skin, as Medusa's adult form smiled at her while pinching the blade between her fingernails.

"I smell someone having naughty thoughts."

"I-I'm not…! Hyah!"

From out of sight, Medusa's golden serpentine tail tripped over her foot with its tip, sending her tumbling into the bigger woman's bountiful chest.

'_I-It smells good…'_ She instinctively inhaled deeply, before snapping back with a red face.

…or tried to, as Medusa had already hugged her strongly. Having seen her punch through several walls in her child form during their raid of Atlantis, Pollux held no qualms about her chance of breaking free from this seemingly-innocent hug, but she struggled futilely nonetheless. If not for her virginity, then at least, her dignity…

"See?" Those enchanting, rainbow-like squared-pupils eyes stared deep enough Pollux could _feel_ it in her soul. "Now, are you willing to be honest?"

Just like a rat under a snake's gaze, the blonde froze. A fat, delicious, fluffy, chaste rat, making Medusa slip out her long tongue to lick her lips. "Shirō has been busy lately, so please be my afternoon snack for a while, okay…"

Before Pollux could muster any call for help, she was summarily dragged into Medusa's private chambers in the newly-renovated _Argo_, squeaking out gibberish all the way there.

* * *

After Athena had recovered – and reverted back to human form from her huggable owl form – she showcased her generosity and gratitude by revamping the _Argo_ to a luxury liner without compromising on its functionality. In fact, with Hecate's presence, she upgraded the ship in terms of its offensive capabilities as well… because it practically had _none_ to prioritize speed and durability beforehand.

This era's ships were already advanced in design, approaching the limit of what wood and leather could provide humans. The only limit of Greek sailors was their inexperience in tackling the great oceans, where Poseidon's former Authority didn't reach and it fell under other pantheons' domain – perhaps even the Protogenoi's hold. Without the blessings of the sea, the Strait of Gibraltar – or what it'd be named in the future – was the perceived limit between bravery and foolhardy.

With so much bounty still unexplored in the Mediterranean region, why should they risk their lives needlessly just to find new land? It's better to consolidate and understand what they were blessed with to the limit before challenging it.

This was why the recently-announced Olympic Games was a big deal. Besides using Zeus's name – worth it because normal humans didn't know of his condition or what his recent endeavours were – it was billed as the largest festival to appreciate the bounties of the entire Mycenaean Greece.

No one seemed to care it was held in faraway Colchis, whose people originated from a different ancestral line, so that should be good. Helios himself didn't hold that royal family in the highest regard, only to change his mind through the generations as his descendants proved to be able rulers, expanding Colchis into the current wealthy kingdom it was.

As to not lose face, both Hecate and Athena had gone rather overboard with the ship's 'pimping up', as showcased by its colour alone. Usually, pigments were quite expensive, though still accessible to commoners in small batches. However, large quantities such as dyeing huge swathes of tapestry for decorations were squarely in the realms of monarchs, purely because of the work needed to produce such a big amount. The ingredients were bountiful, but not the skilled labour.

Enchanted pigments were even rarer, because finding mages skilled enough to do this simple thing… as well as those willing to do such menial task instead of researching grander things was difficult. Additionally, peer pressure meant those who did accept these commissions would be looked down by their family and friends as proof their drive and talent weren't good enough.

But dyeing a whole _battleship_ was certainly something else, only possible in such a short time because of two goddesses' intervention.

Fortunately, Shirō put some sense into the design and went with muted pastel colours, only choosing enough variety that the two ladies didn't feel offended with him partially turning down their effort. There's no need to upstage the invited monarchs over what amounted to a quadrennial festival, because envy was such an easy thing to garner.

Why did Pandora had such an easy time sneaking into said rulers' hearts and minds? Well, that's practically the answer right there.

However, Athena and Hecate wouldn't hear 'no' over the interiors. Perhaps they're just guilty for not being there around their beloved daughters when they needed them the most, or embarrassment they failed to defeat Pandora. In fact, their failure was purely because their combination self-destructed through Hecate's impatience and Athena's carelessness; thus, the defeat hurt their pride even more.

Shirō stirred from his momentary slumber, opening his eyes straight from a seating position, only to be greeted by a scenery straight from a medieval-era cruise liner's most prized suite. Apparently, Hecate in her boredom had been browsing using Kaleidoscope a bit _too_ much, and received a lot of useless information as a result. Granted, the materials the furniture was made of meant exact replicas were impossible unless she wanted to spend even more magic energy producing them, so it brought with it a unique sense of originality, combining ultra-modern design with current-age stuff.

His wives didn't seem to mind it much, judging by how sweetly they're purring in their sleep, their heads resting partially on his thighs and pelvis. The thin blanket – again, not of this era's design – was nowhere near enough to cover all three of them adequately even if they slept properly, much less after a raunchy round of sex.

The afternoon sea breeze felt rather humid and sticky, though that might be Atalanta's and Medea's dried squirts on his naked upper torso too. Their overwhelming scent was just as nauseating to him as it was during their first night together as a threesome – or perhaps slightly better now, because Medusa was suspiciously absent – and only bearable due to him getting used to it.

Rather, if thought about it… he should be getting stronger, right? Why didn't his senses level up along with his entire being? Or did his spiritual connections with them through the Dream Cycles ease the burden? Just like how a dog was weak in sniffing its own senses to prevent mental overload…?

His fingers absentmindedly glided along their oh-so-smooth skin, supernaturally so even after all they'd gone through – especially after Medea introduced a new series of skincare products – eliciting soft whimpers from their still-sleeping figures. His other senses, meanwhile, was frowning at the immense spiritual presence in a room nearby, where Medusa was currently 'devouring' Pollux.

'_I think a headache is incoming…'_ He sighed internally, already hearing the thudding footsteps of Castor, who's no doubt red in anger.

However, in these precious few seconds before the irate blonde was to burst through his door to complain – and receive counterattacks from the two sleeping beauties beside him, no doubt – he'd enjoy the lingering afterglow of sex and oceanic scenery, thank you very much.

After Athena and Hecate's modifications, some of that primal enjoyment an experienced sailor cherished was missing in exchange of luxury. His current room was the main one reserved for the captain – which had been the same since the _Argo_'s original form – but revamped to the point it's near-indistinguishable from a modern cruise liner's prized suite. The balcony was separated from the main bedchamber by a glass door, for crying out loud – a material which supposedly hadn't been able to be mass-produced in this era.

An invisible Bounded Field existed solely to give the room's occupants environmental pleasure without the drawbacks. It _should _let in salty, damaging sea air. It _should _allow the scorching midday sun to creep its way into the room with such intensity no modern air conditioning could cope. It _should_ allow the acrid smell of avian excrement bombarding the entire ship surface.

But nothing came in apart from the imperceptible essential aroma of a ship voyage, enabling the occupants to relax without hesitation. Most of the high-ranked adventurers' rooms were equipped with this feature, and it just so happened two of them were married. Therefore, the budget could be lessened, though he heard Artemis attempted to butt into the design period to pamper Atalanta even more, before Athena and Hecate punched her in the face to kick her out of the room.

Unfortunately, for someone like him, it only intensified the smell of sex in the room. Apparently, the Bounded Field operated mostly one-way, with mediocre air circulation capabilities. While he enjoyed it when he licked his wives' snatches until they sprayed fluids all over the place, it didn't guarantee he'd enjoy the aftermath of it.

Speaking of aftermath…

\- BAM!

The door violently opened, and before Castor's head could be visible from the door, his voice had already loudly announced his grievance. "Lord Jason! My sister had been taken hostage by a vile beast! Please, I implore you to-"

"SHUT UP!"

Both Atalanta and Medea screamed, firing their respective projectile attacks at the poor boy just in time as his face peered through the near-broken door frame.

* * *

On the eve of the Olympic Games, Colchis had been busy like it never was before.

Located more on the modern parts of the current Asia Minor, it was naturally and geographically isolated from the rest of the 'main' Greek culture anyway. Combined with the previous monarchs' isolationist policies, it meant Colchian rarely saw foreigners spending more than a few days in their port, before sailing away again. Of course, those visitors wanted to stay longer and perhaps created a successful business there, but the kingdom was intensely strict with them to the point it became untenable.

This was the first time in their lifetime Colchis was practically opening its gates to _anyone_.

The busy atmosphere stretched all the way to the shipping lanes the visitors took to reach Colchis. Normally, the trade route was a well-kept secret, naturally guarded by the various monster nests forming along the way. While this wasn't the case in modern times, long ago, the shorelines of Northern Africa, Southeastern Europe, and Asia Minor were thick leylines, where excess magic energy from all sources gathered.

This was the fated treacherous journey of the Argonauts, where the torturous experienced forged a bond thicker than blood. Just like most expeditions in this era, every crew understood it might be their last, and the sense of emptiness after one of them didn't return to the ship in time for the next voyage was hauntingly familiar.

In the end, what's left wasn't a sense of accomplishment, but the simple relief to be a survivor.

Naturally, this didn't exist in this reality – what was lost from a good, old-fashioned trial-by-fire was replaced by a sense of loyalty from their charismatic leader instead.

After all, someone who could handle Herakles's tantrums on a daily basis should be a good enough leader for most of them, right? The lack of scummy behaviour helped a lot, too.

The fact both of his wives' patron goddesses were the ones who sponsored the entire ship was also not lost on the crew. However, when compared to the original cast, the lack of mortality meant there's a certain strength in stability, where each one knew their role without the worry a newbie would ruin their formation, or waste time teaching the latter their old tricks.

Perhaps future historians would use this fact against them when evaluating their overall greatness, but that would mean they had the ability to view multiple realities on the same level as Hecate or Zelretch. Which was _highly_ unlikely, to put it mildly. Regardless, it's not that Shirō cared about those – only what his loved ones thought of his plans to close out this chapter of his mission.

Helios watched on from a makeshift viewing position on the highest point of Colchis's royal palace. As the bustling city beneath him failed to see past his concealment Magecraft, he silently contemplated on the meeting he'd just had with the remaining Greek pantheon.

Noticing something wasn't right with Olympus, Hades was the first to react and went into seclusion with his wife. Now, their relationship wasn't the best – which was quite the understatement – but Persephone had strong ties to Athena, who in turn was close to Jason as the focal character in all of this. While he could never understand Athena's and Hera's fascination of the powerful, but otherwise plain-looking man, Helios could at least admit he was grateful for Jason's role in stopping Pandora.

His male descendant was doing a fair job in creating a festival this size – clearly one fit for the gods to descent, though he doubted Zeus was in a condition to attend – so Helios was prepared to fully enjoy himself after a long time in isolation.

After Hades, Demeter, Ares, Aphrodite, Hephaestus, Hestia, and Dionysius all went into hiding – some because they held powers which Pandora would find attractive, others because they're simply too weak and feeble against that little girl to be of use. While it seemed Pandora didn't target the older-generation Olympians like Helios and his siblings, he took the precaution to diffuse himself closer to his predecessors' concepts to make him difficult to access.

To put it frankly, Pandora was shockingly weak in terms of combat power against non-Olympian fighters of her own calibre. Her powers, driven by desire of vengeance, was centred on the concept of [Corruption] – very appropriate for the task she was designed to do in the first place, which was to contain the sins which would do just that if released. Instead, she took it all into herself due to some unknown 'external influence'… and ended up like this.

Those who stayed behind eventually managed to vanquish Pandora with the assistance of several high-calibre heroes, led by the aforementioned Jason. Helios had no intention in wallowing in guilt – after all, it was an Olympian's duty to punish those who dared to slight their authority on the world.

They didn't shed blood, sweat, and tears to topple their predecessors, the Titans, for nothing. If they allowed someone to run amok in their own domains without the slightest intervention, which led to their inhabitants' demise, _then_ someone like Helios might feel something akin to guilt. But if the entire Olympus was threatened? It's expected for one or more of their members to take up responsibility and respond, irrespective of the other deities' position on the matter.

A twisted form of 'all for one, one for all', sure, but that's what's left in them after their previous mechanical forms were destroyed millennia ago in a secret _makhia_ no human knew of.

As Abrystus was buzzing about in the palace to finalize everything before the grand opening, Helios eyed his own form in the sky, far into the horizon as the day had just gotten started, as he felt one of his own descendants approaching.

Narrowing his eyes, he vanished from the spot.

* * *

"It shouldn't be time yet… Why is it coming back…?"

Naturally, my panicked mutter isn't allowed to be heard by anyone but Alaya. Widespread panic is precisely the thing to avoid right now…

…along with preventing Velber's second descent into the solar system.

It shouldn't happen this fast. It's barely a few millennia since its scheduled visit, when it vanquished the Olympians' true form with its Stars Arks. Right after the exhausting _Titanomakhia_, the alien wanderer appeared and struck. Perhaps it's planned, perhaps not; either way, its power was such the information I received from Alaya about a timeline where the Olympians survived intact isn't quite believable at the moment.

And I can sense it approaching, as if it has just pulled an emergency handbrake turn on its way out of the solar system.

Is it because of me…? No, there's no sense in doubting, and let's operate with that assumption.

Alaya's true goal in ensuring humanity's survival with me and my 'siblings' included harmonizing with the will of the universe to upgrade us to the point even Velber won't be able to wipe us out. Of all the future it's foreseen, this is one it still can't see the resolution to, or even the start of problem-solving to walk on. The Heroic Vessel program is so illogical precisely because of that: to counter an irrationally dangerous being and ensure our survival.

So Velber's returning to nip a potential threat at the bud, huh?

"Darling…?" Medea eyes me, worried and holding my arm to shake my stupor open, but just as much as I acknowledge her soft curves, I have to focus on the problem at hand even more.

\- Slither…

Medusa soon joins in on the 'fun', wrapping her large frame around me to break my concentration. Natural, since my sudden freeze can be viewed as life-threatening in this era, where a simple curse is powerful enough to strike down gods from their thrones.

"Medea, use your Magecraft to bring him back!" Atalanta's voice is so close, as she's holding my face right up to hers, almost kissing, but her tearful face means the situation won't be misunderstood by other people. "Dear, wake up!"

I can't. Velber's imposing silhouette, far beyond the sensory capabilities of Hecate or the future Zelretch, is filling my mind. Alaya and I are able to see it – perhaps Moon Cell or the remaining Protogenoi on this planet can do it too – and none of us will be able to focus on anything else right now.

\- BAM!

The _Argo _is rocked by a particularly harsh wave… which is odd, because the entire sea around us is dead calm. Other vessels are coming into view as we approach Colchis, yet only ours is stopped dead in its tracks by a seemingly-invisible wall.

The crew panics, yet only I can speak from my position as the captain of the vessel.

Well, to be honest, I don't do captain-like things _at all _during the entire journey. When one has three wives as captivating as mine, it's difficult to find the motivation to do anything else apart from appreciating them.

I'm boasting internally, but my mouth is already moving on its own. "Hello, Pontus."

[So… you've felt it, too?]

"Certainly. One of your ilk, correct?"

The voice from the deep sea doesn't respond, but an all-encompassing hum can be heard reverberating around the _Argo_. Medea, being the well-learned magus she is, immediately ushers my other wives to one side to prevent any miscommunication happening from both sides… which can certainly lead to Colchis's destruction, given how close we are to the shore.

After a while, he answers, [Then, I shall leave it to your ideal endings. Show me you can accomplish it this time, too.]

"Understood." Right after I answer, a thought suddenly crosses my mind. "Hang on; you're speaking in quite a modern accent. I thought most of your kind don't even speak our tongues?"

[Necessity is the mother of skill. While I, too, am a father and mother to all lives in the sea, I acknowledge my creation, though I do not know _who_.]

I shrug. "Well, getting back to the topic at hand, should we use this Olympic Games to its fullest, then?"

[You've read my mind precisely.]

No one seems to be bothered at me appearing to be talking to thin air, but one glare from Medea and they instantly understand. For people like Herakles, who's used to dealing with divine messages, it's a rather common occurrence, though rarely in public eyes.

Pollux looks to have recovered from her 'time' with Medusa, too, so that's good.

There's no doubt Velber is using a lot of conceptual energy to do this emergency manoeuvre. In fact, because of the solar system's own defensive measures, it won't be able to directly do anything among the TYPEs present, since it's not in its own domain. That's why the secret _makhia_ between it and the Olympians in the past was done using a proxy, limiting its full destructive capabilities. Or else it'd just body-slam the planet and be done with it.

Of course, said proxy was still powerful enough to gravely injure _the entire Greek pantheon alone_, forcing them to adopt this new form as Divine Spirits.

In the time Velber forces its way back, I'm sure I will be able to assemble forces powerful enough to fight off its Stars Arks – discounting the fact I'll get stronger by then, too.

While my plan may seem relaxed, the sheer threat of the _knowledge_ Velber is heading here is enough for me to get serious, for once.

My previous skirmishes against Pandora might not look that way from her point of view, because she had to manage multiple fronts and plans at once – with me as the opposing 'chessmaster' across the imaginary table. However, from my side, she's no more than an immature brat – an apt description in multiple ways: an incomplete Heroic Vessel, a defunct human, an imperfect mother and container, etc.

To be frank, if it wasn't for the fear of collateral damage, I would've just stormed Olympus, activate Unlimited Blade Works, and behead her with Slash Emperor. I would've died, for sure, considering the power output necessary to brute-force such a plan to success, but it'd be a guaranteed finish to this tale.

The aforementioned 'collateral damage' would've included my wives' crying faces, so I'd rather not and hold myself back; play the long game.

I hate tears.

\- Step.

"Ho? Pray tell how will you accomplish that, human."

Everyone on board of the _Argo_ stiffens, because the one speaking is an unfamiliar voice.

I crane my neck to one side, seeing a slim, tanned, white-haired girl standing on the tip of the _Argo_'s front.

Despite the rocky seas we're on, standing on such a perilous position doesn't seem to bother her in the slightest. As her white veil and translucent robe flutter about in the wind, her slim body is like an anchor holding them in place, instead of them doing their job as clothes and actually cover some skin.

An anchor sure-footed enough to be confident in withstanding my next attack.

However, Herakles is much closer, and has already swung his sword towards her slender neck. A movement bereft of any obvious technique, but he doesn't need any – his muscles contorted and expanded every which way to give him the most natural path towards the slash. Even if he deliberately mishandles his weapon, which is unlikely, his power and speed are enough to decapitate any mortal sitting by the wayside just from the wind alone.

\- Tap.

Of course, in a situation like this, it won't end well, will it?

The tanned girl – no obvious racial features apart from her otherworldly beauty – pinches Herakles's blade with two fingers, before immediately counterattacking by unsheathing a rainbow-colored… _thing_ at his large body.

\- Clang!

My body flickers and I parry it upwards with Excalibur, forcing its natural light emission to condense and increase its defensive power, before kicking her straight in the stomach. However, it only meets the fleeting sensation of silk, as she has rotated mid-air – _flying_, mind you – and slashed at the two of us nearly simultaneously.

It's not Tsubame Gaeshi, but the speed is very, _very_ close.

The two of us ready ourselves to defend, but a wall of light shoots downwards from the sky in-between the three of us.

"I thought I should get off my posterior sometime soon, but never do I expect an old face to invite me as such."

With the majesty of the sun, Helios slowly floats down from the sky, his entire body shining as if he's wielding light itself to act as armour.

Meanwhile, Sefar simply tilts her head to one side, clearly not remembering who this arrogant newcomer is. Taking the chance, I Project my favoured black bow and instantly shoot Caladbolg's Broken form – the 2.0 – just to gauge how thick her defences are.

Of course, it carries the risk of angering her and causing unneeded confrontation, but I have several good reasons to do so.

First of all, she's clearly not in peak condition, or else she'd just start Velber's destruction by herself straight away. This was due to various reasons: her battle against the Olympians' machine form and Excalibur's original wielder happened not too long ago – if one has the point of view of an immortal being like Sefar – thus her physical form is greatly weakened.

Second, it's clear this isn't her real body anyway – it's buried somewhere in Central Asia's plains – and no matter how well-constructed an avatar is, by its very own nature it has to be weaker than the original, lest it becomes its own independent self.

And no self-respecting powerful figure will stomach something born from them to be better than themselves. Not even me, hypocritically. For all of those good and evil plans, an independent variable is the last thing we need.

\- Tap.

Much like Herakles's sword, the tanned woman simply encloses her palm around Caladbolg's drill-like tip, leaving it shaking dangerously to destruction because of the sudden stop in momentum. Still, the cracks on the Broken Phantasm fail to expand, as if an invisible force is pressuring and trapping all of them in place.

'_So an A-Ranked Broken Phantasm can't do a thing… perhaps the concept is wrong?' _I ponder, and luckily Helios is there to fill the awkward silence.

"Do you think you can wreak havoc just like last time? I warn you, that time, we were-"

"I don't know who you are," Sefar quickly cuts, not even looking at the now-seething Helios, "but I remember _you_."

Obviously, the person she's referring to is me. Not because I'm overwhelmingly handsome or have a memorable face, but perhaps because of our meetings in other realities…?

"…I've met you before… in a different time…" she mumbles more to herself, closing her eyes in an effort to remember.

Of course, without mastery of Kaleidoscope or other esoteric methods, like the one Alaya uses in its Heroic Vessel production, it's difficult for an individual to retain memories and experience from their other selves in another point in the universe. Sefar is clearly built for combat, and has none of these skills available to her.

That is also why she doesn't instantly go into rage and counterattacks both me and Herakles – because her mind is telling her _something_ is going on, but she can't recall what.

"You have the gall to ignore me after all you've done?!" Helios nearly bellows, but his prized descendant, ever the astute one, blocks his path with her body.

"Great Ancestor, please, allow my husband to resolve this situation. You have not regained your strength yet," Medea argues softly, pushing him away from the firing line between me, Herakles, and Sefar. It's a mere gesture, since her physical and conceptual strength are still far from being able to literally move a god off his spot, but he relents after seeing her sincerity.

"Hmph! If he wavers, then I shall take the reign!" He grumbles, keeping an eye on all of us.

None of the _Argo_'s crew dares to move, not for fear of getting caught in the crossfire, but more due to wanting to avoid being the one who starts the confrontation. Bodily harm they can endure, but damage to their reputation and dignity? No way. It's considered more shameful and embarrassing to not only be blamed for an ensuing chaotic battle, but also to have it passed down to their descendants, marking them with a similar sentence to 'the child of that person who…'.

Also, they don't really want to die right now. Which I understand. Even I have so many things to do left in this world before Alaya is forced to call me away.

"…anyway, what I know is you are dangerous," Sefar calmly says, as if she's not surrounded by the most accomplished heroes of Greece. No, she's not even taking them into account _at all_ – not even Herakles. Closing her eyes, she hops back to her original position. "In any case, I am sleepy, and my task here is complete. Farewell."

Then, as soon as she appears, she vanishes into thin air, giving credence to my theory this one is just a remote avatar.

"Reconnaissance, huh?"

"Just like old times – they view us beneath them!" Helios grumbles beside me, having made his way through Medea's meddling. "it's not reconnaissance – they are simply checking whether we're ready to be slaughtered or not!"

"Then all we have to do is showcase we are tougher targets than they assume, correct?" I suggest casually, my tone rude enough to cause Medea to frown. "This livestock is terrible to chew; let us show them we're actually predators, instead of prey."

"Agreed!" The God of the [Sun] boisterously claps my back with enough strength to make even Medusa's most powerful form double over. "Then, let the Olympic Games become their mirror, a viewing pane of our greatness!"

Much to everyone's added confusion, he, too, leaves as soon as he says that, leaving me to explain to the rest.

I signal for everyone to gather on the upper deck, leaving the _Argo _on autopilot and coast to our appointed spot in Colchis's harbour, since Pontus's influence has subsided, and announces, "Well, it appears this festival is going to get complicated…"

* * *

From a medical professional's point of view, Lord Jason's lifestyle was clearly unhealthy. For a person to receive so many divine interventions in his life – good and bad – and still attained the level of strength he had clearly point at a person who's working harder than necessary. Therefore, Asclepius was glad his three wives were there to keep him in check – no one had no needs, and those had to have their proper channels.

For a man to have women problems was the simplest thing to deal with.

He eyed his captain, who's calmly addressing the crew, though his words didn't particularly register in the healer's brain. Unlike Herakles, who required a full attention span to digest a plan slightly more complicated than 'kill everything in sight', he was more than capable of observing a large number of people while listening to more than one conversation.

"…the Umbral Star lacks the method to descent directly to this plane, because…"

However, Lord Jason – soon to be king, Asclepius predicted – was among the least interesting subject to research further in his eyes. Sure, his strength over all matters were extraordinary, but passive and active experiments failed to explain anything further than 'talent'. And in this age, people like him were a dime a dozen – it just so happened Lord Jason had the 'luck' to be born with an optimal combination, which its parts not only added to one another, but supported each other into a multiplication instead.

So, 'talent'. Nothing more to be learned – in fact, if Asclepius had persevered in this way, it might distort his view of other test subjects.

To him, Lord Jason's wives were more interesting.

Why didn't Medea exhibit demigod traits despite her clear heritage from Helios? How could Atalanta safely assimilate a divine boar tainted with Pandora's powers without any side effects? Could Medusa shapeshift at will – but wouldn't that interfere with her Conceptual Weight, which would affect her core soul instead of just her size?

Interesting, so very interesting…

Of course, being a responsible healer meant he'd need to receive explicit permission from the patients in order to study them further. Which vexed him the most, not because Lord Jason was possessive to the point he wouldn't let any males touch them, but because they're so healthy Asclepius simply didn't have a convenient chance to examine them. Usually, he was inundated with so many patients he couldn't even move from his clinic, much less had the time to go all the way to Arcadia, wait for his application to be processed by the royal palace, and saunter to the royal chamber to observe the queen and concubines.

His head would've fallen off by that point, either by the guards' weapons or from boredom while waiting.

"…it observes, like a hunter, whether it's worth it or not. Therefore, if we are strong, then…"

Lord Jason was busy covering up the facts with alternative truths. This was what Asclepius managed to garner after following him for so long. This person knew of another dimension of information beyond their own understanding capabilities, and had to keep the fact _he knew_ a secret. Not a particularly well-guarded one, because Asclepius was sure his wives knew of it to a degree, but a secret nonetheless.

One not even the Olympians could crack, and only the Protogenoi had an inkling of knowledge to.

How frightening.

But it didn't have anything to do with the healer. The same intimacy for Lord Jason's thoughts also revealed he's the sort of person who wouldn't endanger others, intentionally or not. He _cared_ – which was more than what most adventurers were capable of, Asclepius admitted – so it was good enough for him.

"…that's the new point of the Olympic Games! Medea, can you contact your brother?"

He continued observing, as was his usual task during group gatherings like this. Herakles was a particular danger if he was drunk, usually producing several victims. If it came down to that, depending on who those victims were, varying chaos would ensue. Obviously, no one here apart from the captain could contend with the demigod in a drunk fight – not that Asclepius ever saw Lord Jason inebriated – but they had their dignities to protect. For instance, if in his drunkenness Herakles approached Pollux in unsavoury ways, then Castor would've fought to the death right then and there.

The young boy would've died, but considering the current situation of Olympus, bringing him back from Thanatos should've been a simple task.

Ah, the ruinations of a healer…

* * *

Peace was famously momentary, yet precious and worth all the pain all the same.

When they were young, Athena, Artemis, and Persephone failed to understand that sentence, only to do so when they reached their full strength as goddesses.

They though of themselves to be better than their predecessors, as the carapace of the Titans laid before them under Zeus's showcase – he was always one who loved the parades. That a future of peace and prosperity awaited them until the end of time…

…but the White Titan's descent proved the girls wrong. Oh, they're surely more powerful than their adolescent forms, but it mattered not – Zeus took the first full blow head-on, and their resistances crumbled as soon as his form did. That rainbow, kaleidoscopic beam haunted them in their sleep for eons to come, as they were forced to abandon their physical, imposing bodies to favour their new intangible ones, provided by Hecate's idea.

What was left behind were sacrifices to the invincible conqueror of the universe, hailing from the same order as their grandparents, the Protogenoi: inconceivable, horrific, illogical conceptual beings whose origins were still a mystery – and perhaps would remain so until the end of time.

A time they once dreamt of, yet felt out of reach.

And now, having felt it once more, they were fearful it was about to be taken away from them again.

"Why the long face?"

The motherly voice knocked some sense into the depressed Athena, who didn't even realize she was brooding. It was a face similar to Hera's – even their overall wardrobe was strikingly matching – but she could tell it was Europa instead.

Or, to be more precise, a physical projection of hers after they decided they needed someone to represent humans who _wasn't _Jason. As one of Zeus's favoured concubine, she was uniquely qualified to appear here with _both_ status and temperament: mother of three demigod children, she was fated to be one of Europe's progenitor – hence the continent's name. Additionally, she was… _airheaded_, to put it mildly, meaning she wouldn't be skewed towards either gods or mortals.

Hera was busy enchanting Zeus's condition to prevent him from waking up and interrupting this important meeting. Knowing his temperament, he would've tried to rule against the human's just like always, repressing them to no end like how he did once Pandora failed to live up to his expectations.

Zeus had many good points – which was why the current pantheon voted for him to be chief god anyway – but fairness and humility clearly weren't among them.

Just like Alaya planned – and unknown to these deities sitting around the hall in their over-designed and over-personalized thrones – this group was about to integrate the divine and mortal realm once again, though within a completely different structure designed mainly by Athena and Hecate.

In the past, because their current bodies were born from the humans' perception and worship of them, the Olympians distrusted those mortals, thinking if they were pious enough in their disbelief, they could potentially kill off the deities' existence in this universe – a lethal blow not even Sefar could complete with her tyrannical strength. Thus, Zeus suppressed them, turning them to no more than slight-intelligent pets to serve as the Olympians' nourishment and entertainment.

Naturally, there was dissent, but the chief god presented a strong enough case by combining the fact they'd just recovered from a hard battle – one they'd _lost_ – and they, as one species, had to band together at least to prevent another to damage their entirety like what'd just happened. Therefore, the more docile deities chose to showcase their dislike of the iron-fisted rule by creating their own domain, where the humans under their watch could live under their guidance just how they preferred it.

Demeter, Hestia, Artemis, Hephaestus, Hades, and so on were among the latter, while Athena, Hera, Apollo, and their ilk were more neutral. Zeus and Poseidon were always the most extreme, showcased by their casual disregard of human lives and dignities through the relationships and fates they'd ruined because of their own carnal desires.

Because they were shamed in defeat, they sook to redeem themselves by bullying those weaker than them. That was the mindset Athena couldn't accept, and one she silently swore she'd end the moment she heard the prophecy regarding her eventual rise to chief god after this generation.

Who knew the opportunity would come so soon? And just as swiftly, it was threatened to be taken away by the same foe they feared since time immemorial.

Europa's smiling expression was far less intense than Hera's usual expressions, which was one of the tricks to differentiate them apart from a distance in an instant. Their similarity was rumoured to be why Zeus lusted after her so incredibly – and in a strange twist, Hera felt honoured by that and didn't harass Europa much, unlike what she did to his other 'conquests' and their descendants, including Herakles.

Therefore, it's hard for Athena to remain gloomy in front of that beaming expression.

However, before she could explain herself, the final participants of this meeting had materialized with their true Divine Spirit forms, signalling its start.

As the one who called this meeting, she had to be the one to open it. Gazing and meeting the eyes of each participant – all mature gods and goddesses – she inhaled deeply, before starting, "Thank you for coming here today. We are assembled to-"

Before she could go through two sentences, Hecate raised her hand to interrupt.

Under the Goddess of [War]'s glare, she said in a deadpan, "Can we just skip to the main point of this meeting? I cast my vote to Athena. I want to go back to my Temple."

"That's the very reason this meeting is structured!" Athena criticized loudly. "There's an order to everything! ORDER! You can't just skip things whenever convenient!"

"Eh… But I do it all the time, though…" she lazily said, her mind clearly not focused on whatever's going on. "Usually, if I don't, then Circe and Medea will line up and buy things for me."

"Don't bring your personal preferences into this!"

Before the silver-haired goddess could rip her hair out in frustration, Demeter clapped her hands and kindly mediate, "Now, now… Athena, you can just start by ignoring her, right? There's no need to get agitated…"

\- Boing. Boing.

Usually, chests that big irritated Athena, but Demeter had the sort of calming aura which didn't allow people to stay angry for long. Sighing, she coughed lightly before continuing, since Hecate had lost interest in communicating further. "Like I was saying, the purpose of this meeting is to determine the future of Olympus… and the world."

This time, she properly paused to see whether there's any additional comments from the willy-nilly Goddess of [Magic], but a flutter of brilliant crimson hair at the edge of her vision caught her attention.

Aphrodite's smooth, sensual voice chimed in, "Somehow, I agree with Hecate. We all know why we're all here, given recent events. Let's just go straight to the voting phase, alright? And no, I'm not going to reveal my choice just like that airhead – so don't glare at me like that, beautiful. You'll ruin your forehead."

The tease didn't work as Athena still kept on glaring at the attempt of skipping the beginning of the meeting.

Seeing the petite girl wasn't saying anything, Aphrodite moved chin from one hand to another in support. "I motion to move on to the main phase. Any objections?"

Athena was clearly outvoted, as Hecate's hand shot up faster than her own Magecraft at the question, before the others followed suit. The quiet Hades, the imposing Thanatos, the weary Hephaestus, the giddy Persephone, the smiling Artemis and Europa, the serious – _'Finally!_' – Apollo, and some more followed suit.

Hera's agreement of the matter, having returned from her earlier task, sealed the deal.

"What's the purpose of me being the chairman of this meeting, anyway…?" Athena whispered to herself, exasperated, and gave up.

That day, the seat of Olympus's chief god moved hands.


	40. Grand Old World

**Hey, what's up, everyone?! Hopefully you all stay safe in this later stage of the pandemic (as is compulsory for me to say, apparently). Here's the penultimate chapter for you guys to enjoy!  
**

**A question: Why is my image cropped whenever I upload it to FFn's Image Manager? I'm doing the next project's cover image, and it consistently leaves out some details instead of showing it in full. Can anyone help, please? If I don't get a real solution, then I must go ahead with the cropped image because I can't bear leaving the cover image blank.**

**Once again, the penultimate!  
****Royal Freshness12345: TBH, I don't know why FGO decided to call their parody of the Olympic Games 'Nero Fest', given the Roman Empire's rule was partially what brought a pause to the Games in the first place when the Greek culture disappeared due to the 'Sea People' (even though we Nasuverse fans know what happened, LOL). They should've used more Greek Servants in that event, though I think it'll make the Roman ones redundant without an event to their own. ****Regarding the Olympians, I really dig what FGO did to them with both their humanoid forms (with the stylized halo) and their 'Gundam' forms. Don't really have a favorite, unlike you, though. I agree with the Guda Guda 3 upcoming event, and I expect some more Sengoku-era Servants to debut in the rerun.  
AlternateReality: ****Yeah, how kids change when they grow up, huh? On a more serious cultural take, Ancient Greece is one of the ancient, lost cultures where polygamous relationship isn't just accepted, but expected too. And in either gender to boot - just see Herakles's own legend and lovers. It's not too out of the way for Adult!Medusa to be truer to her F/SN and F/HA interpretation, where she flirted with both Rin and Shirou.  
Issei ODR: ****Yeah, but unfortunately I don't think I'll go as far as you expect. Like I said in the previous few chapters, the story's coming to an end, so they're just making token appearances at most.  
BlackKnightRai: Yeah, apologies. It's less about 'picking up chicks' and more about refilling her ever-hungry reserves, since Shirou was.. _busy_. Chiron's fine; Pandora's fate will be told below; no, no more members of the _Argo_ is 'with Shirou'. Be informed the Sefar in this story and Altera in HV-S01 are different people owing to the time difference. Thanks for your constant patronage!  
**

* * *

"Back in here again… Are you going to finally execute me?"

Pandora's hisses fell on cold white-grey triangles floating around her, silently breaking apart and conjoining together to create and destroy temporary prisms in an eternal loop.

To her, this was the place closest to the description of 'home' she had.

The levitating glowing sphere was as calm as always, and took its sweet time to formulate a response.

\- Formulating alternative solution…

"Cut the crap!" Her small body rebelled against the invisible restrains, wild enough to cause the stagnant air around her to rattle alongside her emotions. "Are you going to dispose of me, just like you did to everyone else after me?! Torture me! Dismember me! Seal me! Come on! COME ON! COME ON! COME ON! COME ON! COME ON! COME ON! COME ON! COME ON! COME ON! COME ON!"

Still, her crazed taunt barely elicited anything from Alaya.

\- Formulating alternative solution…

"What? Are you getting soft? _You?_ What a fuckin' load of-"

Pandora stopped her cursing when she saw Alaya's glow intensified momentarily. Grinning, she eagerly switched directions. "Yes! YES! That! Come on! End my existence already! Or I'll destroy everything you've built over and over and over again!"

\- Challenge accepted.

"…eh?"

Not expecting that response, Pandora stared at her most hated 'parent' with mouth agape.

\- Commencing simulation… Designing identity… Crafting environment…

"W-WA-WWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTTTT!"

Ignoring Pandora's protests – which already showed how ironic and hypocritical she was – Alaya forged on with her process, having been inspired by this unruly child's taunts.

\- Simulation complete. Identity "Ainsworth" successfully created.

"No! Not immortality! End me! END ME NOW!" She was almost sobbing, knowing Alaya understood her deepest desires the best. "I have released [Death] from my box! Grant me closure!"

\- Farewell, my child.

Alaya's last words to her were uncharacteristically… _human_ and emotional. However, her soul had disappeared before she could hear them, doomed to serve among humans for all eternity.

* * *

\- WWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

This morning, the cheers erupting from the centre of Colchis was the loudest in its history.

How could they not? Though the adults understood the principles behind Colchis's relative isolation, even they were excited in seeing so many foreigners gathered at once in an event _not_ concerning a large-scale war.

\- WWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Every step of the ceremony was a completely new experience, containing many different influences from various cultures, many among which native Colchians had never seen before. When Apollo showed up personally and shot a flaming arrow at a large bowl, igniting it with a golden flame more brilliant than the sun, most present were reminded of their heritage from Helios – one which they'd gradually forgotten over the years.

Indeed, humans were even more easily entertained than the gods.

\- WWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The parade consisted of various magical beasts – some below Monstrous Beast level, some around that – pulling lavish carriages of foreign designs, where the participating athletes were showcased to the audience not just in attendance, but all across Greece through the laser projection Magecraft installed in various large _poleis_. Seeing the pinnacle of human physiques stirred the hearts of men, women, and children, inspiring them to push to achieve a similar state to these idols.

Perhaps the half-naked men and women, all incredibly fit and lean, also contributed to the enthusiasm, but the adults couldn't exactly explain that easily to their children, could they?

However, the supervising gods and goddesses were nervous because of another reason.

To be more precise, it's their white-haired 'guest' sitting among them, directly guarded by Jason, the soon-to-be 'King of 3 Kingdoms'. While still an unofficial title, the fact Medea had returned, Acastus had recently taken the throne, and Atalanta's influence grew ever stronger meant he effectively held the _de facto_ description aptly anyway.

Still, no amount of prestige would help against the spectating Sefar if she wanted to rampage then and there – only might would. No matter how depowered this current avatar was, it's still enough to slaughter everyone present before the deities present could react – not even Athena with her [Wisdom] could predict her movements because Sefar wasn't a being from this world.

Therefore, one of Jason's plans was to integrate her into human society for some unknown reason – certainly one of the futures the _Moirai _couldn't foresee – and let her see humans more than just a target of destruction.

To an extent, he'd already succeeded in his initial quest: to do the same between the Olympians and humans. No one realized the person who implanted the idea to keep Zeus inactive to Hera was this person – after all, who'd suspect the grand champion of the previous chief god's wife, as well as the 'son-in-law' of the current one?

Sefar was sitting quietly, eyes intensely fixated on the colourful parade. Clearly, as this was her first time engrossed in human culture and society, her antagonism was nowhere to be seen – instead, there was a great wave of curiosity hidden underneath that stoic demeanour.

"Do you see? This is what's called 'good civilization'," the redhead explained.

His tone nearly made Aphrodite facepalm at the childish way he iterated things, but she could sense it's working on the dynasty-destroying alien weapon, so she let it slide. Anything she did right now would only be viewed negatively by Sefar, since she could only naturally try to influence others through her Authority. Having ruled over [Passion] for so long, she'd forgotten what's it like to build a natural bond between two people regardless of gender.

Still, her appearance meant this Olympic Games was guaranteed to be well-attended, so Jason plopped her right at the front row where the deities' temporary and miniature thrones were placed. It was fortunate their Divine Spirit form could change sizes at will; if it was their true former selves, attending like this would've been impossible.

As always, she ignored her husband who slumped behind him, his hands trembling at the prospect of having to sit there _doing nothing_, instead of crafting something.

'_What a dull man…'_ she criticized lovingly in her mind.

Not that she'd be able to do anything, really. Athena had been glaring at her non-stop since they took their seats, seemingly still annoyed Aphrodite had backed Hecate up in ruining her carefully-planned and meticulously-prepared meeting.

So, smile and wave. Smile and wave…

* * *

\- Grab…

Perseus's attempt at holding Andromeda's hand in his own failed miserably as the brown-skinned princess slapped his own away, though clearly with a blush deep enough to show on her ebony face. It's more to do with the public display of affection rather than pure annoyance, and one their teammates were more than willing to tease them over.

Over the past year, they're officially going out, though Andromeda would vehemently deny it whenever asked by her parents. It's doubtful whether she's more embarrassed of going back on her own words when she defied their wishes to travel and adventure, or more in anticipation of their reaction once they met Perseus.

Which wouldn't happen anytime soon… unless they did something really great in this Olympic Games.

"I think it'll be a great showcase for your parents. You know; the ones in attendance right now?" Aigle hopped in with a glittering gaze, causing her team leader to twitch dangerously.

Perseus simply sighed quietly, knowing touching Andromeda right now was akin to igniting a fusion-bomb spell. The quests and time had matured him quickly – gone was the brash, ignorant prick whom Lord Jason nearly killed _twice_ in the same mission. Now, he could proudly say he's a fitting companion for the Ethiopian princess in all occasions.

One of his most important improvements was the willingness to tolerate his first three teammates, the nymphs, and learn from them what it took to mature into a complete man. He distanced himself from them – and from Andromeda, to be honest – for some time because he failed to openly admit his faults to his own reflection in the mirror, even though the revelation was already granted to him several times during their missions.

From Lord Jason's overwhelming killing intent, to Athena's cold replies, to Andromeda's honest and painful criticisms… If a man didn't manage to change one bit even after all that, then he truly would be wasting his life up to this point.

\- WWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The cheers of the crowd actually made the tunnel they're waiting in to tremble, no doubt amplified by the random thumping of excited feet on the ground. Colchis truly lived up to its luxurious reputation – foreign designs, expensive materials, innovative ceremonial antics to rile up the audience, etc. – and many competitors like them were in awe of this rumoured land of the riches.

Their team, having risen up in rank once again, finally had the budget to travel this far and prepare properly for a massive event like this. Given none of them were performers or athletes of any kind, joining a competition filled with specialists such as Queen Atalanta in sprinting was foolish. Fortunately, there was team events, such as the gladiatorial group combat they're about to enter.

Their party stayed mostly the same, though their growing reputation meant they could afford taking in rookies to bolster their ranks. While teaching newbies could be bothersome, that's what _eyes_ were for – if they chose someone troublesome, the fault could only be placed on their shoulders for being horrible judges of character.

Well, because it hadn't bee too long, most of these new additions usually dealt with menial tasks. Andromeda's role was more of a sponsor, to ensure they received impartial treatment from the Guild and their clients… because they all know too well what a first-timer could experience on the job. Naturally, they were sat out during the Olympic Games, mainly because they didn't have enough money to have them attend.

It's a harsh world out there.

\- WWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Again and again, even though their turn to perform was still some way away, the thunderous and quaking atmosphere persisted, causing Hesperia to jump every single time. Erytheia was annoyed at first, but the constant instinctive reaction eventually dulled her out of any expression, instead choosing on focusing at the task at hand.

However, Aigle noticed something was wrong with Perseus.

Not the disappointment she expected from having his public display of affection rejected so harshly, no. He was constantly scanning the crowd, deliberately slowing down when his gaze landed on certain parts of the audience. It's clearly not a hot babe he's eyeing – or his head would've been chopped off by Andromeda's jealous quick-draw – and the cautious killing intent permeating out from him made her understand what it was.

Without waiting for their team captain's permission, she clapped Perseus's shoulder sharply, chirping out, "I see 'em! Let's go!"

Perseus silently nodded, before sprinting after her blonde flowing hair under the confused stares of the other three girls.

When they all first met, all of them were indirectly or directly threatened by an S-Ranker they adored. When they got their first mission, it was a disgusting, lowly job, completely unlike what they'd each imagined. When Perseus finally had the balls to face up against Andromeda's family, a monster appeared – well, _two_, but try saying that to Medusa's face – and when they finally thought they could attain worldwide fame, having cut their teeth across the years…

…there was a possible terrorist threat.

Truly, the lives of heroes were full of adventures, weren't they?

* * *

The cheering and screaming from the outside barely raised a murmur inside the deepest Colchian dungeon, where their prized guardian dragon was kept and raised previously. With the arrival of the Olympic Games, the committee chose to allow it to roam controllably as part of the show, adding spice to the already-highly-anticipated gladiatorial games.

While the word 'gladiator' itself wouldn't become the norm until the next era, the show's structure was essentially the same: people equipped with basic equipment pitted against impossible tasks, mimicking those sagas narrated by the bards about Herakles and Jason. Being able to see one enacted live – albeit a highly-simplified version of it – was enough to drive the crowd to a frenzy.

The dragon, after its 'parade', would take part in several other competitions as the 'obstacle', chief among which the final round of warriors-against-environment combat. It readily agreed – after all, when else would it be able to snack on such varied tastes and textures? Additionally, the royal family promised it great rewards if it could stay alive and provide a decent entertainment, so it didn't mind playing possum for several moments to raise the tension… before swiftly annihilating the finalists and causing the gambling houses to cry.

The Colchis's royal treasure it's guarding was also on full display, having realized the change in Olympus's line-up would mean the Golden Fleece would've lost its meaning.

In reality, it was nothing more than an extremely beautiful fur. _That's it._ Its mystical properties derived from the Sisters of Fate who deemed it a central item in this era's Greek culture, to the point where modern scholars could consider it a pseudo-Holy Grail. Steeping in Colchis's rich natural resources, kept near a powerful dragon, it bathed in magical energy day-and-night to become a dangerous artifact.

'Wish granting' was one of its aspects, though somewhat weakened in the presence of gods, who could bestow miracles nearing that effect when granted with an Equivalent Exchange. Because the Golden Fleece didn't require the latter, it was considered a superior item when compared to the need to appeal to a patron deity to have one's wishes granted. Of course, it's not as powerful or far-reaching, but for mundane things, it would serve a mortal well.

Additionally, one could simply sell it for a high price. Of course, this carried the risk of having Medea suddenly appear in one's sleep, before slaughtering them and their entire family along with it. Those who stole, cheat, forcefully took, and illegally own that item – a royal treasure handed down for generations – wouldn't be anyone decent, anyway.

The world could certainly use one less scum roaming its lands.

However, Abrystus had received a heads-up from Helios beforehand, who informed him of the result of the meeting led by Athena. Well, it was a 'meeting' in name only, because Hecate and Aphrodite quickly tore it down into a quick rabble, before running away when Athena summoned Labrys, Aegis, and Metis to deal with them.

The Golden Fleece was now displayed proudly near the viewing platform of the Olympians, ready to be bestowed upon the group or individual who won the most events.

Colchis also knew the event's host would rotate in a set number of years, so it didn't have to worry about the problem of preparing an even grander prize for the next iteration. It'd leave that toits successor, who's guaranteed to ransack its own treasury to avoid losing face in Greece.

It was also possible because Pandora's threat had subsided, and the reason why Abrystus and Medea were standing in this dungeon, instead of enjoying the massive party outside.

"Hello, Father…"

The man they addressed was thin, almost unhealthily so. Gone was the vigour he had when expanding Colchis's influence and riches, replaced by sunken cheeks and protruding orbital bones.

Those would all still be alright, if not for the empty glaze in his eyes.

In front of him, he did not recognize any living being, much less derive the identities of the two 'strangers' talking to him.

Medea closed her eyes, trying her best to avoid the tears from falling. Abrystus clasped his hand on his shoulder, massaging it, though he himself wasn't doing too much better in the waterworks department. Additionally, it was rather awkward because he was slightly shorter than her, being so much younger.

This was the result of 'salvation'.

Because they saved him from Pandora's grasp, _this _was what's left over.

Truly, they understood it's considerably better than beheading his head with their own hands – not an uncommon sight in Greece with its strong patricidal tradition – but couldn't it be better? Why did they get stronger in the first place? Why did they brave social dangers to attain their current standings? Why did they gather knowledge to become a ruler – Medea as a queen consort, and Abrystus as the King of Colchis – and studied to create an even better kingdom?

One which would surpass the wealth and fame of the current Colchis…

They knew it wasn't right to blame the circumstances. Pandora? Æëtes was merely a convenient victim – if not him, then another ruler with a similar wealth and status would be chosen. It was already a miracle he could resist her thralls for as long as he did, since Shirō's uncle and Atalanta's father quickly gave in and became monsters as a result.

Speaking of the former, he was quietly disposed of by Shirō… to the point even his wives didn't know about the fact until it's done. It appeared the too-many close calls with Pandora made him unwilling to take the chance – instead of overcoming Pelias with political pressure like he'd been doing in the past few years, he chose the more direct route instead once he felt he got the ensuing aftermath under control.

Iolchos had just announced Pelias's 'retirement', and Acastus's ascension to replace him. Shirō's parents had moved in peacefully, received warmly by the residents who still remembered their rule.

The fact Pelias was administratively superior didn't even register in their mind, having been fed false information by Shirō's hidden network for so long. All Acastus had to do was continue along the framework his father had built from the moment he exiled Shirō's parents, and the young man would reap the rewards his father was dined of.

Purely because he was on the wrong end of a Heroic Vessel's attention. In this regard, the redhead's cruelty was no different than Pandora's, or his other failed seniors.

The envoys from Iolchos watching on the first events of the day were also of a newer generation, made of various ilk – those who're ambitious enough to overthrow their predecessors, those who're gifted with the position due to ability, and so on. The only true prerequisite was the okay from Jason, since most of them knew he was the one in charge, not his cousin the king.

That, too, was a false assumption, as the redhead had no intention of meddling in domestic affairs. Acastus was the one who had the eye for administrative talents, and only consulted Jason when he encountered some dilemmas. Still, the S-Ranker's work exceeded even his own intentions, and Acastus's stock suffered mildly as a result, though still nowhere close to his father's now-tarnished name.

Colchis was left relatively untouched by Pandora's rampage, a fact the siblings were grateful for. However, how long did this… 'salvation' would give them peace? Even now, the avatar of a creature destined to bring about the world's destruction watched on intently above them, entertained by Shirō, born from a creature of the same generation as the Protogenoi… no, perhaps even older than that.

Would humans be forever this way? Threatened whenever they had achieved peace, and destroyed whenever they let chaos took over? Thus, whatever they did would be useless by their children's generation…

Medea shook her head. No, this wasn't the time to ponder such sombre things – they were alive and well, as one family. So long as they had time, there was still a chance their family would become whole once again.

Sensing his sister's uplift in mood, a smile bloomed on Abrystus's young face. "Shall we go back?"

Medea took a few more seconds to observe her father's catatonic figure, before sadly replying, "Yes, we shall."

* * *

"Is this a good time to tell her the truth?" Penthesilea asked from her seat right beside her sister. "You know… The time will come sooner or later. Might as well get it done with."

"Sometimes, you are too nosy for your own good, Sister," Hippolyta replied coldly, narrowing her eyes in disapproval. "Molpadia is, and always will be, _my_ daughter. I will find the right time to tell her everything – not you, not anyone else."

The white-haired princess sighed. "What if it's too late? I dare not curse anyone, but the Moirai are fickle. We never know what will happen; let's finish our duties before-"

"Before what?"

An almost-redhead popped her small head from between their seats, cheerfully climbing on top of her mother's lap. "What did I miss? Is it over already?"

Both women smiled at the excitement emanating from Molpadia, having worried the battles she's thrown amongst would've troubled her for years to come. While trained mercenaries and soldiers started early, both Penthesilea and Hippolyta didn't wish for this little girl to be exposed too early, too quickly.

"Of course, before _this festival is over,_" Penthesilea replied forcibly, eyeing her sister meaningfully.

"U-Ugh…" The black-haired queen groaned, having lost the initiative to her younger sister.

"Really?! Mother, really-really-really?!" She clamoured up to Hippolyta's torso, eyes glinting with expectation. "Don't back down, now! Tell me _eeeeevreything _you want to say!"

"F-Fine…"

That day, Molpadia eyed the VIP box slightly too intensely, where her newfound 'father' sat among the divine guests.

* * *

Right before the signal to begin running rang, Atalanta's eyes met Aprhodite's, the Goddess of [Love]. Knowing what this would result in, however, she quickly removed all thoughts from her mind and refocused on the race.

She had entered the short-, medium-, and long-range footrace originally as a favour to her nagging ministers and advisors, when they said it'd be good marketing for Arcadia.

Only… they didn't account on their queen to ignore literally _everything_ they had said to avoid crushing all present competition. It'd be bad if they didn't give face to the other kingdoms, after all…

Her husband was watching. How could she lose? If the others around her were offended by that, then they're simply not good enough. Why blame her and not their incompetent selves? How was it her fault she could run faster than anyone?

Even if Shirō was here and repeated the same thing, she would turn her cat ears the other way and run with all her might.

Still, Aphrodite's passionate gaze succeeded in causing the fur on her hidden bestial traits to stand up.

'_What does she want with me? Geez…'_

In fact, she had such a margin over her competition she was able to easily win all the events she entered while being half-distracted. Of course, most of the audiences' eyes failed to capture her running form in its fullest, much less discover her shameful display, so she would only have her husband to answer to later.

In-between the intermissions, she looked up to see whether that redheaded lustful goddess was still eyeing her like _she_ was the prey, not the other way around… but it seemed Shirō had told her off, and Aphrodite had gone away somewhere, sulking.

When she came to, only the defeated bodies of her opponents laid all around her, having overstrained themselves to catch up to her shadow.

"Oops…"

* * *

"She did it again…"

Medusa could only sigh at Atalanta's shameless display. Even after becoming a regent, shouldn't she exercise more control over herself? Perhaps she should learn from Medusa, who was a shining example of such improvement…

'_Ahem…'_

"Well, I do think it's normal. After all, _we_ are all watching," Athena replied, perched on her daughter's adult shoulder with her owl form. This time, she was smart enough to refuse an offer to sit on Medusa's lap, for fear there would not be another chance to escape. It'd be embarrassing if the same thing happened again, but now to the current chief god of Olympus, no? "And soon… you will, too, in the next Games."

"…why? I only want to live about as normal…" Medusa complained, a trace of childish rebelliousness seeping through her sultry, mature voice. "To become a goddess is…"

"No, not _become_. You _are_ already one, even before… before your sisters' passing," Athena heavily insisted. "Therefore, everything here doesn't belong only to you, but to you three sisters. Do take on the position beside me for their sake."

"…you cheated."

Receiving such sly words made Medusa unable to refuse, as even though Stheno's and Euryale's spirits had moved on to Elysium under Persephone's protection, their 'words of wisdom' still lived within her until this day. While the pain of the memory had healed, the mental scar would always remain there, forever. Accepting that was the key to unlocking her full-powered form and the base of her golden armour, as well as how she controlled her bestial 'Gorgon' form.

The owl smirked, weirding Medusa out since an owl's _wasn't supposed to move like that_, but Athena persisted to drive home her point. "Besides, you won't be alone, you know? There are others in this generation who hold enough potential and have attained enough prestige to ascend to Olympus. I think Hecate's interested in travelling outside to learn from other cultures, so that beloved student of hers is invited, too."

"Medea?"

"No, the noisy pink-haired one."

"Oh."

"And you can still live here, since we've decided to abolish the barrier between the two planes."

Now _that_ certainly captured Medusa's attention.

"H-How did you manage to do that? Don't just use Lady Hecate's expertise as an excuse – if she was able to do it herself, then you would've already done so a long time ago, right?" Medusa asked. "So you can visit me even _before that_…!"

"Of course I would have!" The owl shrieked, forcing Medusa to realize the impudence in her words. "You are my most precious… do you not understand?"

As the scathing criticism turned to a sad plea, the purple-haired woman calmed down. "…please explain, then."

The owl fluttered and puffed her feathers, before saying, "Just like how that white-haired monster draws its strength from a being outside of our world, so do we. Only this time, your husband is the intermediary."

"Oh…? That spherical, mechanical _thing_ who patronizes Shirō? That makes sense…"

"…it'll smite you if you speak so disrespectfully of it," Athena warned, having tasted its power when the remaining Olympians stood in its presence.

Alaya, the Human Force. Known by many names and moniker, but the 'god' of [Humanity] was without a doubt this individual. Shirō, having successfully subdued Heroic Vessel #02 PANDORA, had technically finished his duties in this era. Without her interference and with the seeds he'd planted, he could leave right there and then without leaving behind any problems. Of course, personal relationships were intentionally made to matter by Alaya, thus it granted him an extended stay to reinforce the foundations he'd made in Greece, just like all the times he was successful in other deployments.

To allow the universe to embrace [Humanity] again… was a tricky thing to do – and that's already a major understatement. How could it happen, if the other parties didn't want to cooperate? Having existed for so long among the worship of humans, the conceptual beings who controlled the very fabric of the universe wouldn't step down to their level just to ensure this inferior species' continued existence.

Sometimes, the best choice was to brute-force things through various means.

For example, the now-drunk Sefar was stupidly smiling and nodding to everything Shirō was saying, having lowered her guard after tasting his personally-curated course meals prior to the opening day of the Games. Clearly, any information she gathered over the past few days would've been distorted. Alaya then took this data and twisted and modified it further, to the point Velber wouldn't be able to decipher any real truths in it, to show this world wasn't something it could destroy willy-nilly.

Thus, as it approached orbit, it decided to slide out of view after reviewing this 'reconnaissance', thinking it needed more energy and time to cultivate a more proper agent to devour this world.

In spending countless amount of effort and wealth in these past few days, the two of them managed to buy humanity several millennia to prepare for Velber's next scheduled arrival. Not to mention Shirō had shared his plan to cajole Sefar to Alaya's side, having known her other versions who were friendly with him.

…or at least with the individual known as 'Hakuno Kishinami'. Perhaps that one could become a Heroic Vessel like him too?

If subtle tactics didn't work, then an outright bribe could rarely work every now and then too.

Speaking of 'subtle tactics'… the tearing down of the barrier between mortal and divine was the culmination of one of those, enacted masterfully by Shirō. Athena grumbled internally when she discovered she'd been played, just like everyone else, but because it allowed the two of them, mother and daughter, to meet and live like this going forward, she'd let the insult slide.

After she attained the seat of chief god, only then did the full chessboard was displayed to her. It's not due to a lack of ability, but opportunity – that position across all pantheons came with its perks, such as quasi-omniscience among the subjects they ruled. This was why Zeus was able to find so many beautiful women to satiate his desires, and how Kronus was able to attain forbidden information about the Titans' demise from the _Moirai_.

However, Shirō wasn't just a player on that omni-directional playing board. He was _both_ a piece and player, thrusting himself into the thick of things with minimal regard of his own safety. Knowing he's one of the most powerful and impactful piece on the board, he forcibly forced formations and tactics to shift around him. Atalanta, Medusa, Medea… these were supposed to be sacrificial in nature to the gods, yet he was able to 'promote' them into indispensable pieces for all parties involved.

Only that way could he move even the Olympians forcibly, bringing them down to live among humans by the end. As they spoke, Hephaestus had just finished building his first teaching studio, and Ares had moved to live with his Spartans. This move was welcomed greatly by those who preferred living in the mortal plane anyway, such as the mother-daughter pair of Demeter and Persephone, after Hades allowed his wife more freedom.

Speaking of the ruler of the [Underworld], it seemed the forced isolation had embarrassed him quite a bit, keeping his appearance to a minimum because of who knew what. It's complicated to decipher a main god's emotions and thoughts from another's perspective – even another deity's – and often futile to do so.

Begrudgingly, she had to respect Shirō for managing that, solely for the fact she knew _she_ wouldn't do it if she had the [Wisdom] she had now.

…well, that, and the fact he's technically her son-in-law right now. Doubting him would only create discord between her and Medusa, who's finally relaxing after being told a seat in Olympus was already reserved for her. Perhaps the low sun made her rather sleepy?

"What Authority will I have?"

"That depends on you. Say the word, and I'll work things out with the others."

"…then, [Vengeance]."

The owl blinked. "Why? Do you still hold…"

Medusa shook her head. "It's so others won't get consumed by it… like the other 'me'."

Athena cooed. "You managed to see your other selves? Impressive… you've truly grown up!"

While the goddess's words might not sound impressive, the fact Medusa hadn't gone insane from seeing her other selves was exactly that. Even divine beings went crazy with the knowledge of the other realms, not including how their other selves fared in it. Sometimes, just the sight of one's own corpse would drive even Ares to the brink of despair, much as that prideful man would deny his other selves would be weak enough to simply die like that.

She could already hear his protest, _"If he's like that, then he's not me at all! He deserves to perish!"_

Medusa blushed at her mother's praise. "I'm not… I still have a long way to go…"

"Oh, look at how your face reddens! So this is your adult form's weakness! I should go tell Shirō…"

\- Flap. Flap. Squeak!

Medusa's arms entangled around her owl form when she tried to take off from her shoulder… and _squeezed. Hard._

"K-Kuh.. G-Guh… I was j-joking… M-Medusa… Help, s-someone…!"

The Olympic Games went on, oblivious to the chief goddess's predicament.


	41. Epilogue: Myriad Futures

**Thank you for reading this far, especially those of you who diligently reviewed and comment almost every chapter. Thank you all for making this the best-reviewed (by the time this chapter is uploaded) Medea, Medusa, and/or Atalanta fanfiction in this site. I'll see you in HV-S03, which will be under the FGO crossover category!**

**Warning: Every single inaccurate-to-canon thing narrated below is AU. Can you guess why they turn up as they are?**

**AlternateReality: ****Yeah, I know and intentionally did that. Would you like to guess why the OOC moment as well?  
Story Writer-san: ****I think you missed his appearance in the last 'Percy's & Andy's Fun-Fun Adventures!'. Check the chapter titles for further reference. Also, he'll make an appearance in the epilogue, don't you worry.**

* * *

"Thus, my story ends," Archer finished both her narrative and meals at nearly the same time. Considering she ordered roughly the same portions as Saber – much to Shishigō's tears dropping onto his now-ultra-skinny wallet – she ate them fast, too.

…and to his horror, the two ladies seemed intent on ordering _dessert_.

'_I'm sorry, my daughter… Your father may need to sell his body for your next school fees…!'_

"Aww… Come on! There has to be more than that anticlimactic ending, right?! What about █████'s cool battles?! You're not including them much…" Saber complained, cheek lying on one hand, scraping the long-empty salad bowl filled not with salad, but copious amounts of sliced roast beef. Of course, all of it had made its way down her stomach. "And the sex, too… We're both adult women! There's no need to be shy!"

They sounded like they're talking about the same person, but why wasn't Shishigō able to hear the name? Every time this person was mentioned, it's as if an invincible perception filter struck him, and using every trick in his book as a magical mercenary didn't even let him identify what spell was being used, much less break through them to gain insight on his Servant's life, as well as the Archer sitting across from them.

It _should_ be a man, though it's not impossible, given how Mordred's father was historically portrayed, that any kind of gender identifier was possible.

Shishigō was just too lazy – and scared – to ask, given Archer also put a lot of value on this individual. His Servant, he could somewhat handle… though he's not sure he could activate his Command Seals faster than her sword swing at close range – but another Master's? Even though Archers weren't supposed to be good at close range, that's only relative to other Servants – against someone like him, it'd be easier than snapping a dry twig in half.

It's just… the rate these two women hit it off surprised him tremendously. Heroic Spirits were… well, _heroic_, with the ego size to match. It's rare to see one completely prideless, since even Assassins, whose names were usually the most obscure, had their skills to show for it. As a result, finding two Servants who're complete strangers _and_ get along with each other the instant the two met? The chances were smaller than him mastering True Magic.

Archer was hiding the beast-like traits she sported when they first met outside the church, and was now wearing a fashionable green jacket over a shirt and short skirt. As was always the case with Heroic Spirits, her beauty was astounding, turning heads wherever she went. With her long, jade-gold hair and thigh-high stockings, her looks tempted both genders regardless of time and space.

Walking alongside another pretty girl like Saber only piled on the pressure on Shishigō. He could see most people around him though he's a goon paid to bodyguard these two fine ladies, since his Servant had gone out of her way to borrow a dress from a shop she liked when they were passing by.

Key word: 'borrow'. No way in hell he's going to spend that much money on a piece of feminine article which he wasn't going to see very often anyway when Saber dematerialized or in combat.

…though now when he thought about it, perhaps he should've caved in back then. Because now… he didn't have any excuses left to _not_ pay for their meals.

As the two girls talked, the sunglasses-wearing man was almost catatonic when calculating which family property he'd have to auction to cover _this _meal. On the _first day_.

'_H-How long will we be in Trifas, again…?'_

Contrary to her brash mannerism, the dress Saber was wearing was feminine to the extreme. From the outline of a simple one-piece knee-length dress, numerous frills of various shades of red and gold over white adorned nearly every inch of fabric. While modern in style – meaning they're nowhere near as long and gaudy as those on the ballroom gowns female rulers in the Middle Ages favoured – it completely transformed her image into a pure, innocent village girl; the kind one dreamt of to have as a childhood friend.

…until she opened her mouth and crossed her legs wantonly, that was. Of course, that was only in front of him; when she _begged_ to borrow this dress, another persona – the one fitting said piece of clothing – covered her original personality flawlessly. Shishigō felt shivers going down his entire spine when he saw the underlying threat hidden behind the oh-so-sweet smile: _Tell on me and you're dead._

Sipping the applewood-scented tea, Archer raised one hand to wave over the waitress, and Shishigō sobbed in his heart. "Apple pie, please."

"…w-which size, Miss?" The simple girl stuttered, blushing at Archer's sharp and athletic features.

"The largest. I shall take it whole; no need for a slice."

She nodded furiously, her mind kept replaying how slender and toned the arm which called her earlier was. She tried a trick to have their fingertips touch, but Archer had long lost interest and already begun to speak again.

"I assure you, there was not much apart from the same monotonous happiness. I am fulfilled in every single way – as I am sure you were, too."

"You got that right! A large sundae for me, please!" Saber boisterously slapped the table, careful not to break it into pieces while there's still pieces of food remaining on the dishes.

Can't waste 'em, after all…

* * *

"I summoned you, you rascal. Why have you not heeded it?"

Under Archer's fearsome glare, Rider could do nothing but whimper on his knees, trembling.

"It appears you must still receive… _education_."

"NO! NO! PLEASE, NOT THAT!"

Nearby, Assassin could only do her best to contain her guffaws from escaping her belly. However, the strain of doing so proved dangerous for her posture, as her shoulders were shaking heavily and her floor-length black hair rippled this way and that.

Her Master only watched on, speechless – a decision unusually shared by Caster, who's usually the most boisterous. The silence was even more reinforced as the petite woman dragged the full-grown muscular by his collar, and nothing Rider could do was able to hinder his captivity in the slightest.

Truly, far had this hero fallen.

Atalanta Artemisia-Arcadia. Three words which carried tremendous weight and influence back when she was alive, never mind right now with how widespread mythology and general mysteries was. Shirō certainly thought the still-powerful connection between humanity and the planet nowadays – relatively stable since he last 'ascended' from this world – was due to her actions in the past.

'Atalanta' symbolized the fearless huntress whose shadows were too fast for any mortal or deity to catch a glimpse of, much less catch, and signified her affinity with the forest. 'Artemisia' was self-explanatory, after the Olympians decided to grant their champions and chief priests/priestesses their name to symbolize the closer relationship between the divine and mortal. 'Arcadia' showed she, not her father, was the kingdom's greatest ruler and the true start of the Arcadian Empire's dynasty.

Even until now, the coalition between Arcadia, Iolchos, and Colchis still existed behind the scenes, powerful as ever under different guises – one of the few remaining tethers to the Age of Gods still existing today. While their power wasn't as tremendously overbearing as it would in a world with thin spiritual presence, it only showcased how strong they were to be able to persist in their lofty heights even in an environment where any random child in a few dozen could develop talents in Magecraft.

This was the world Amakusa Shirō Tokisada was born into, and still was the same after he 'ascended'.

He formed his hypothesis from studying ancient documents as soon as her true identity was revealed, which showed remarkable similarities with his beloved teacher. Not much, but enough a discerning eye like him – even without the boons of his Servant Class Container – because only a select few know of the existence of a Heroic Vessel.

As was the norm, any mention of this individual would sound in his ear like, "████," for he wasn't one who's blessed with direct contact with the person – that would be his master, the Matron Saint of France, who took him as her final disciple before her 'ascension'. Just the thought of her braving an entire continent to find him was enough to elicit overwhelming warmth from his heart, as nostalgia threatened to consume him if not for Semiramis coughing discreetly in her spiritual form beside him.

And now, they stood on opposite sides. Truly, the Holy Grail War was a cruel thing to behold.

…well, not precisely _opposite_. He was of one faction, she was a neutral observer. Two near-immortal saints in different groups were very difficult to manage, especially because he had no confidence in outsmarting and outperforming her if they met face-to-face.

Karna would be a good option, he mused, before leaving Achilles to his fate.

He could feel the green-haired man's scathing look of betrayal as Atalanta shoved him to one corner, but steeled his heart as soon as the screaming started.

* * *

"_You want to be the fastest? Even faster than me?"_

_Achilles, an obnoxious young preteen, nodded arrogantly. "For sure! I'll show you-"_

"_**Then die."**_

Those were the last words Achilles remembered before Atalanta kicked him in the face down a cliff, back in his childhood.

"_Lunch will be in an hour. Make it back before then, or starve and die."_

He was falling at terminal velocity, and thus Atalanta's cold voice failed to reach his ears with the rushing wind bellowing around him. However, he was adept enough at lip reading to decipher her intentions – not to mention she could've spent some magic energy to make her voice audible; but hey, he wouldn't be the one to say that to her!

He didn't remember much after that; only slivers of memories of life-and-death battles with the monsters living in the bottom of the cliff. Any route he tried, different beasts would inhabit it and assault him in a different way. The long, slow, and relatively gentle slope was ruled by powerful four-legged feline beasts twice his height. The caves full of opportune shortcuts were pitch black, where blind and poisonous pale creatures awaited patiently in ambush – not to mention the seemingly-infinite amounts of dead-ends. The 'cheat' route of directly climbing the cliffs put him square in the middle of various griffons' and harpies' hunting ground, and while they're not as powerful as the other ones below, they tend to attack in herd, and their harassment was more than enough to break his concentration from climbing, forcing him to drop down below again and again.

In the end, he only made it back the following day's morning, full of wounds and starving.

But Atalanta simply tied him to a tree as she had a sumptuous and bountiful breakfast in front of him, fit for a queen, and cooked by her husband. Her fellow wives took pity on him and wanted to free him, but she sternly disapproved.

"_What? Did I not say 'one hour'? Only blame your own incompetence," _she spoke in-between quick bites and slurps, her eating speed just as fearsome as he'd heard.

Thereafter, she threw him back down the same cliff – _still tied in a rope_ – and said, _"One hour. Past that, you can go back to Chiron."_

That was the first time Achilles faced the monster lurking deep within him. Unlike the previous 'trip', this time his memory completely went away. According to Atalanta later, the path he carved back up the cliff wasn't only filled by rivers of blood, but also permanently marred the entire geological structure with deep gouges and craters.

That, she explained, was the 'desire of survival' inherent in all beings, divine or mortal. _"Mastering it will unlock all of your potential in more situations,"_ she added.

The training regiment which followed could only be described as Hades's and Tartaros's best effort in torturing a human being, to the point he intentionally blocked it all from his soul. It's better to accept his current buff self was the result of 'normal training' rather than live through that again.

Therefore, when he failed to bring Atalanta a cup of tea in under 10 seconds, he knew he was doomed.

Still, as he screamed, no one was willing to help…

* * *

"Ho… Something like that happened? You look happy, tho'," Saber commented as she stood guard under a tree where Archer was scouting on.

"Just because he is an acquaintance," Archer replied coldly. "Though seeing him made me reminisce of the old days with ████."

Their conversation was naturally monitored by Assassin through secret means she hadn't told anyone but her Master. She furrowed her brows at what she perceived to be an incredibly powerful perception filter, but chose not to act on it. Through her scrying familiars, only simple spells could be performed before they self-destructed from the energy she's channelling into them. Not only would the two female Servants be able to trace it back to Assassin, but it'd completely ruin the Red Faction's stealth.

The plan was simple. Have Archer scout out the place with a bodyguard, then send in Lancer and Berserker as the vanguard. Rider would serve as on-site support along with their Master, Shirō Kotomine, while Assassin would rain down long-range spells from her Hanging Garden.

Caster, as usual, was being useless, so she counted him out of the fight completely.

'_One of these days… One of these days…' _she darkly uttered in her mind, eager to remove that loudmouth from their group.

Because Saber unexpectedly got along with Archer well, given their attitude back when they first met in the church, the two were paired up together.

Semiramis had to admit, their Red Faction was perhaps a tad_ too_ overpowered. She was almost sorry for the Black Faction, whose most powerful members could be confidently countered by their own. Lancer of Black – Vlad III – had no abilities which could threaten Karna or Shirō. Rider and Caster of Black were second-rate Servants at best, and any one of their members could take on two of the opposing side's.

…of course, barring Shakespeare, but that's beside the point. Perhaps even that hack could serve as bait or fuel?

Saber of Black – Siegfried – was decent, but with Mordred at their side, Semiramis was confident the blonde woman could handle that man one-on-one. Archer of Black could be contained by his fellow Greek counterparts – and Atalanta had boldly proclaimed she'd snipe him down in one shot if the opportunity presented itself.

Only Berserker and Assassin of Black were unknowns. Through Atalanta's and various familiars' scouting, the two of them should've been relatively modern Servants from Europe's age of industrialization. While that would limit their depth of Conceptual Weight, herMaster had told her to be wary of the two, because he had a feeling they're similar to the Red Faction's Saber and Archer.

When Semiramis tried to question him, his words were blocked out in her mind, similar to the event happening right before her eyes.

The two ladies were still chatting happily, as a thin smile even graced Atalanta's stoic face from time to time. _'What Rider would do to see that expression directed at him…'_ the Assyrian queen mused.

Said man was still traumatized from the last 'education', whimpering at the edge of the Hanging Garden's balcony after being forced on lookout by Shirō, who just couldn't take the sound of his sobbing any longer.

Suddenly, a transmission came through to her and her Master at the same time.

[Prepare a large amount of magic energy. I have a shot,] Atalanta uttered. Even though her tone was soft, the conviction in it was enough to prevent anyone from doubting her words.

[How much?] Shirō asked, eyeing Semiramis from several levels above and signalling her to prepare.

[Around three Noble Phantasms' worth.]

[WHAT?! A-Are you crazy?!] Assassin immediately shouted through the mental message, causing Archer and Saber to wince in irritation. [There's no way-]

[…approved.] Her Master's reply cut through her tirade; short but firm.

[Master, I don't advice-]

[Should I back you with a Command Spell too, Archer?] Ignoring Assassin's protest, Shirō queried.

[I need no more of your repulsive methods than necessary, my fake Master.]

Even before she received another reply, her body had already taken position as seen through Assassin's familiars' vision. "Saber, do guard me."

"Aye, aye!" The chipper woman saluted, though her posture was terrible enough one could take it as a joke.

\- Suu… Haa…

[Care to explain your plan first?] Annoyed at her Master apparently favouring another woman right in front of her face, Assassin crossed her arms beneath her bountiful chest – at least she's better in that department! – and spoke, [It's not as if you're actually planning on using-]

[Yes. Three Noble Phantasms at the same time. Can you not hear me earlier? Or did you fail to calculate beyond two?]

Assassin could only grit her teeth at the sarcastic remarks. Since her Master had given the go-ahead, she could only comply.

[For further explanation… simply watch me work.]

The Queen of Assyria cut off the connection, before screaming out loud in frustration.

* * *

\- Suu… Haa…

Watching her was almost like watching Shirō work, Mordred mused.

Not the Red Faction's temporary lead Master, Shirō, of course. The 'Shirō' who was their mutual husband, separated by eras, yet still one soul across many bodies.

Was she jealous? No; she only regretted she wasn't special enough to be able to traverse realities like him. If there were other women who could take on her duty and accompany him, then as a good wife, she could only be happy.

Now, back to business.

Differing sex would naturally necessitate a different application of the same concept. No, even those of the same sex would've had varying body mechanics, requiring the same flexibility to be applied to teaching and mastering a skill. This didn't even include the possibility of a disabled practitioner, which would open another can of worms entirely.

Still, as she watched Atalanta prepare and draw her bow, Shirō's silhouette would at times overlap with this archer's. She presumed the green-haired girl would have the same appreciation if she watched Mordred swing her sword, so the feeling's mutual.

With her cat ears and tail fully out, Mordred's eyes widened when the beautiful soft jade-gold fur turned snow-white, and the archer's intricate black-green short dress disintegrated, replaced by black-purple carapace which left even less to the imagination.

The only comforting thought was their three sizes appeared to be similar. Perhaps Shirō liked his girls slender?

The carapace asymmetrically concentrated on Atalanta's right sholder – her draw hand, Mordred presumed – and the purple lines glowed faintly.

Thus, the Red Saber finally took guard. What Archer was doing would be imperceptible to normal magi, but what about a Servant's senses? Especially since most high-level Archers would be able to spot this form of hers – and according to Atalanta's info, the Black Faction's one was particularly troublesome to deal with.

It clued her in that Atalanta knew the other person's personally during life, but the now-white-haired girl didn't seem bothered at the idea of killing the other party, so Mordred only unsheathed her sword in silence, allowing her Magic Cores to warm up and saturate her body with magic energy.

The glowing purple lines indicated Atalanta was doing the same, only on a much, _much_ higher level.

"Okay, we're probably busted right now," Mordred noted.

"No matter. This will end in an instant. **Calydon, give me your strength.**"

What Atalanta didn't tell Mordred, Semiramis, or Shirō Kotomine was the fact her show of gathering magic energy was intentional.

"Enemy movement _confirmed_."

Usually, a hunt wasn't just about outmuscling and outrunning the enemy. Both of those actions were futile if one didn't confirm the preys' actions beforehand. For her, then [Aesthetics of the Last Spurt] would activate. The skill gave her the absolute opportunity of a counter in exchange of absolute power – the opposite of Gáe Bolg and Fragarach, which could be evaded with enough Luck, but extremely lethal as a result.

Both had fate-reversing attributes, though. Besides, the power shortfall of the skill didn't matter with the combination of her other two Noble Phantasms.

As the onlookers watched on, worried, they noticed significant movements buzzing about in the Yggdmillennia castle.

However, Atalanta was eerily calm, proceeding with her chant monotonously. **"****Blazing Shadows. Hidden Moon. I offer this to the two Gods."**

One foot anchored to the split between the tree trunk and main branches. One foot out at the middle of her longbow. Right hand, covered in thick carapace and glowing dangerously, pulled the string taut. Left hand steadied the bow's upper arm.

**Phoebus Catastrophe  
**_~ Descending Divine Revelation ~_

Mordred was forced to close her eyes, as a literal _comet_ was formed, aimed, and shot faster than she could react towards the busy enemy camp.

Only Shirō was able to perform the same feat at a similar speed. Truly, this one was his wife through-and-through.

* * *

The first one to notice there's something wrong was Archer.

The long-haired man quickly informed the rest of the Black Faction, but he feared he was too late. Lancer, the _de facto_ leader among the Servants, was still busily sneering at the floating island approaching them, challenging them to dare invade his land. The former Romanian ruler was agitated lately after Saber of Red's provocation back in Trifas – when she placed every single homunculus and golem head on spikes belonging to the residents' fences and walls.

Clearly, the Red Faction knew who he was, even without meeting Lancer face-to-face.

Back then, Archer predicted this would happen – the fact they'd ignore this person who was able to gather critical information about them so easily and stealthily. Confidence was good, but relying solely on Lancer's homefield advantage and Caster's hyper-efficient magic energy production facility?

Chiron knew so many individuals when he's alive who could slaughter them all just as easily if this weakness wasn't covered.

Alas, his Master was young and naïve. While respected for her talent and determination, her military decisions were never put on top of the pile.

Darnic was arrogant. Gordes and Celenike were incompetent. Assassin's Master was unknown to them, given the cessation of Sagara Hyōma's reports meaning he's either ran away with Yggmillennia money or already dead. Caules had a good heart, but ultimately a liability on the battlefield, while Roche's mindset was incomprehensible to the centaur.

They gathered under one banner, yet Chiron had never been in an organization so fragmented.

Among the Servants, discounting himself, the remarkable ones were only Saber and Berserker. Rider was inconsistently insane, Caster was feeble in melee, and Assassin was unknown.

Berserker was a pleasant surprise. While she preferred to keep herself mute, and any attempt at speaking only resulted in slow, drawn-out singular words, her gaze was frighteningly intelligent from behind those blinding red bangs. She moved elegantly despite her impractical dress – a modernized and militarized version of a white wedding gown – and her shapeshifting weapon was wielded with incredible dexterity.

It didn't surprise him when she told him – painfully slowly – she could qualify as a Saber if her Master was good enough.

The painful acknowledgement from Caules was summarily ignored by her, causing Chiron to wince at her harsh words.

Right now, they needed all of those surprising elements to survive the next strike.

Any attempt at probing the identity of the Red Faction's Servants proved futile. They didn't even know how many were males or females, for crying out loud! That flying island was the first solid proof they had to their enemies' identity – and while there's only a few mythical 'heroes' who were connected to such phenomenon, in a battle between Servants, the slightest misinformation would be fatal.

And that large object had successfully capture the attention of most of the Black Servants, bar himself and Berserker.

In slow motion, the two turned to look at each other, read minds, and leapt to cover their respective Masters from the incoming _comet._

…which came from _below_.

He should have known. Having a castle surrounded by a forest might be a good deterrent against normal forces, as the trees and ground would serve as excellent foundations for a Bounded Field, yes.

But what about opponents who could turn that area into _their own_ Bounded Field?

He knew of one such individual in life, but summarily dismissed the possibility.

What were the chances two Greek heroes were summoned in one war? And, more specifically, _that woman?_

Let it be known Chiron was terrible at gambling.

* * *

[Confirmed hit. 80% of opposing forces are down.]

Right now, Assassin didn't have a proper retort.

All of her familiars were gone just from the collateral impact of Archer's array of Noble Phantasms activating. But it didn't matter, when she could directly see the result just by peering down the balcony.

Or, to be more precise, _what's left of the result._

The entire Yggdmillennia castle was gone, along with several dozen meters of topsoil, revealing the Holy Grail buried deep underneath it prior to the attack.

The sight of utter victory was so stunning Assassin and Rider froze in place, unsure as to what to do next.

[Saber, can you kill off the survivors?] Her Master's voice, as reliable as ever, echoed through the multi-link transmission.

[Eh… how cruel. I may not have the heart to do it if they're too cute, you know?] Saber lazily replied, though a small burst of magical energy showed she obeyed the instruction… for now. "You should dematerialize and head back to camp. You can't move, can you?" She eyed Atalanta's slumped form, before sprinting off without confirming.

The Queen of Arcadia shook her head disappointingly, gazing at her trembling right arm. The Calydonian Boar's hide had deactivated after its corrupting energy were all used up, and the remaining lifeforce was extracted from her original self. _'Still, I am unable to use it consecutively… Dear husband, what should I do?'_

Her form dissipated into motes of light following Saber's advice, before returning near her husband's namesake. Silently, she observed what this mysterious man would do next.

She could forgive what he'd done to her original Master, given the latter's not a particularly decent person anyway, after he explained his wish to the Grail. While genuine, she knew better those who were zealous in their beliefs were more often far more dangerous than a pragmatic realist. The fact he's nonchalantly using her husband's name, even though it's mere coincidence his birth name was the same, was also a source of irritation – she understood why Mordred was peeved off during their first meeting.

Still, she knew better to showcase her disdain when the War was still ongoing. If the players on the board were reduced, and intentions became clearer, then putting an arrow to Shirō Kotomine's back was easier than hugging Athena while drunk. Rider would obey her. Saber would join in and stab many additional wounds with her sword. Assassin and Caster were inconsequential. Berserker and Lancer might prove problematic due to their incredibly high defensive prowess, and if powered by Command Spells, her assassination attempt might fail.

But no one could detect killing intent from several miles away, especially when emitted by an expert hunt like her.

If she wanted Shirō Kotomine to perish, then there's nothing the prey could do but die.

* * *

"Archer! ARCHER!"

'_I… am a sinful man… for making her cry…'_

"ARCHER! PLEASE… My magic is…" Fiore's screams were cut off by several coughs from inhaling the thick dust. Desperately, she placed her palms at his broad chest and channelled her Od, but with the last of his strength, Chiron placed his palm at her stomach and pushed her away.

Because of her limp legs, that weak toss already created an insurmountable gap between them. There's no way Fiore could've crawled on top of the debris with nothing but her thin arms – she was excellent in magical combat, but her physique was inherently inferior, even without her disability.

"Young Caules… t-take care and p-protect her…" Chiron spat out, resolutely gazing at the young man standing before Fiore.

"Caules! Caules! You have to help me! Archer is-"

\- Chop! Thud.

"…thank you, Berserker."

And with that, both Master and Servant lost consciousness due to different reasons.

* * *

"Hoh… You're pretty skilled, little girl. What's your name?"

Mordred giddily put her sword to one side, eyeing the young face framed in an overflowing black cloak.

One moment, it looked solid, though clearly in rags. Another, it was an imposing, expertly-made cloak. And yet, when she blinked, it was more akin to black mist shrouding this short girl in front of her.

Only the flashes of her silver-white hair and her knives' gleaming steel broke the all-black ensemble.

"You… are a good person. Will you take us to the castle?" A soft, cute voice asked, even though her lips hadn't moved in the slightest.

'_Ventriloquism?'_ Mordred mused. "Assassin, I presume? I was already on my way there; but aren't you from the Black Faction?"

"Red, Black… doesn't matter. We want… to save someone…"

Hearing the familiar words, Mordred took a second to compose herself, before grinning. "Very well… I'll trust your words this time. You have the same smell as me, after all."

"…so you're tasty when eaten?"

The childish question spread silently in the wind, as a thick mist began to envelop them.

* * *

"Oji-sama! Why are you up so late?!" Sakura Matō rushed towards the wheelchair-bound middle-aged man, narrowing her eyes at the invisible presence behind him. "And why didn't you stop him, Berserker?"

An all-black suit of armour with a glowing red visor materialized at the criticism, growling in self-frustration instead of a pushback threat at the girl. "Grr…"

"Now, Sakura… I only wish to see you summon your Servant. It's a momentous occasion, despite the War's abominable conditions."

She pursed her lips. Clearly, her uncle Kariya was in good shape tonight, with no stuttering or rashness in his voice which ravaged him on occasion. She knew her own stubbornness came from this man, despite without any blood relation between them – a trait she's proud of, but found frustrating when she's faced with someone else with the same personality.

Huffing, she twirled around. Really, she couldn't go against her uncle…

"Hmph… Fine. Berserker, do get ready to shield him if anything goes wrong."

"I have the utmost confidence in you it won't."

"Smooth talk won't get you anywhere, Oji-sama."

\- Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

His wheelchair was clearly a high-class one, made by a famed medical equipment manufacturer in Romania, TYPE-BOON. Normally, it operated smoothly, but the stillness and calmness of the night meant every little noise was amplified. Still, Sakura was used to it, so she wouldn't find it as creepy as her schoolmates – and Berserker wouldn't care, as usual.

\- Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

The Matō house was old, but well-maintained and -furbished. She knew her uncle made a fortune in the previous Holy Grail War just a decade ago, being the co-winner with another estate owner in the other part of the city. It was built by his great-grandfather, Zōken, though Sakura didn't have the chance to meet him as he passed away shortly before her adoption into the family was finalized.

Kariya-ojisama had a complicated face every time she brought this topic up, and growing up, Sakura understood they had a complicated relationship – perhaps even an antagonistic one.

The house was needlessly large, given there were only three of them, but her sister's occasional visit did bring some liveliness into the place. Her friends in the same year found her house to be too creepy – despite she herself finding it homely instead – a product of too many cheap ghost stories told around gatherings, most likely. Her seniors in the Archery Club were made of sterner stuff, though – as expected of a national-calibre team – and her captain, Ayako, was also a frequent visitor.

Three of them: Sakura, Kariya, and Berserker. The other inhabitants had long been… _disposed_ of as material for today's summoning.

It's a risk using a living being as a catalyst, because any form of sentience had the potential to pervert the process and possibly harm the intended Master. There were records of a Servant instantly killing their Master because the latter used children's tortured souls as a catalyst, and ended up summoning an individual who felt _strongly_ against that notion.

But Shinji never amounted to much, so it should be okay.

That person was as close to a neutral piece of garbage as a human could be, and thus she simply slipped a strong potion into his last dinner and laid him out across the circle…

…in pieces, of course. The efficiency would drop otherwise. The worms would form the necessary pathways to complete the summoning circle.

Did she feel remorse? …yes, in a manner she was losing a pet which had been living with her, raised with 'care', for something else far more important. A necessary sacrifice, Kariya-ojisama would say, and one she wholeheartedly would shoulder.

A wraith made of Shinji, haunting her after this? Such small fry could be easily dealt with by Sawada-sensei at Hyōdō Temple.

Besides, cutting him up made it easier for her to carry him. She vehemently refused to be assisted by Berserker, who even made the point by dematerializing his armour and showing her his earnest, though lightly-mutated face. He must be a handsome man when he was alive and sane, but he's not Sakura's type.

She shook her head.

\- Static!

_A red-haired child, short for his age, futilely practicing the reverse jump on the tall hurdle._

"Ugh…" She stumbled lightly, bracing herself against the wall with one hand.

Berserker was quick to the draw as always, his hand already hovering near her to catch her body if she fell.

"See? Good thing I'm here," her uncle commented kindly. "Should we postpone the summoning? If you're not at your peak, then we shouldn't force things…"

"I'm fine!"

That came out harsher than she wanted, but it got the point across.

'_W-What was that…? A memory… of something I don't know…? Who was that… b-boy…'_

She took a deep breath and stilled herself. "Merely a passing phenomenon, Oji-sama. I was able to repel it to ensure success tonight _because_ this is my peak. No sense in delaying things further."

She could feel him shrugging from behind her. "Alright, your choice."

* * *

_**Silver and iron to the origin.  
Gem and the archduke of contracts to the cornerstone.  
The ancestor is my great master Schweinorg.  
The alighted wind becomes a wall.  
The gates in the four directions close, coming from the crown; the three-forked road which leads to the kingdom circulate.  
Shut (Fill). Shut (Fill). Shut (Fill). Shut (Fill). Shut (Fill).  
Repeat every five times; simply, shatter once filled.**_

_**I announce: Your self is under me, my fate (doom) is in your sword.  
In accordance with the approach of the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this reason, then answer.  
Here is my oath: I am the one who becomes all the good in the world of the dead.  
I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead.  
You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence…  
O' keeper of the balance!**_

'_So far, so good…'_ Kariya judged in his mind.

How long had it been since he himself chanted those words? Of course, his had additional lines for Berserker, but the enthusiasm in her voice was eerily similar to his.

He tried his best to raise her into a good girl, and he'd like to think he'd done a good job.

Immediately using a Command Spell to have Berserker unleash Arondight to annihilate "every fibre of Zōken Matō's being" was worth it, because the ambient mana remaining after the summoning, with the Matō patriarch's plentiful Od still connected to the process, but with lessened control, enabled his wrecked body to sustain that feat.

He was grateful he decided to take on Magecraft when his gut as a child told him otherwise. If he tried joining the Holy Grail War with minimal preparation as a magus right as an adult, then he would've been crippled, or dead, right then and there. Having the worms was torture, sure, but the pain was sedated by the vengeful thought he skilfully hid even from their prying senses.

"_One of these days… One of these days…"_ he always told himself mentally.

When the chance came, he struck.

He wanted to pat himself in the back, but was unable to when he found out Zōken's core worm managed to escape by sacrificing everything else. It also irritated him he and Berserker weren't the ones who found and killed him, but a new junior monk from Hyōdō Temple.

That guy ended up as a popular teacher in Sakura's school, so he supposed it was fate.

He closed his eyes as the light grew stronger. Even from beyond Sakura's silhouette, it was difficult to visually gauge the summoning's progress after this step. What he should do was empty his mind further from erroneous thoughts, lest it influenced the summoning. They're already breaking the mould by using Shinji; no sense in adding another variable to the mix.

'_Kiritsugu… Let's see whose daughter will win, shall we?'_

\- Pop.

A soft sound reverberated from the forcibly-replaced air… by a little girl?

He couldn't help but roll himself closer, and even Berserker eyed this small Servant curiously. An elegant black-purple robe covered most of her body, though her hood failed to conceal her overflowing violet hair. All in all, she was somewhat similar to Sakura as a child, though their countenance was extremely different.

After this, a verbal confirmation _should_ be the next step.

Smiling stiffly, Sakura said, "W-Welcome, esteemed Heroic Spirit. I… am your Mast-"

"I'm hungry."

That was the only thing they got out of her, who immediately strolled down the hall, sniffing for the kitchen all the way.

* * *

\- Munch… Nom! Gulp… Crunch! Munch… Nom! Gulp… Crunch!

Sakura could only look on in trepidation at her Servant, who'd made herself comfortable on the Master's lap, as she devoured a month's worth of resources from the house.

Yes, Sakura enjoyed cooking tremendously. But she shivered when thinking she had to do this _every day…_

Weren't Servants supposed to sustain themselves with nothing but magic energy?! The Matō household would be bankrupt by next week if this went on!

Still, she had to be courteous. She had a feeling not even Berserker could hold this little thing back if she wanted to rampage…

"U-Um… A-Avenger… is m-my cooking satisfactory…?" She reverted back to her childhood's foils by stuttering – a habit she'd mostly grown out of – and asked in-between shovelling large scoops of roasted potatoes _with a spoon the size of her own palm_ to Avenger's tiny mouth.

"Hmm… Barely," she mumbled out with full cheeks. "It's good enough as a midnight snack, at least."

'_T-THIS IS JUST A SNACK?!'_ Both Kariya and Sakura cried in their minds.

"I… I-I see…" Sakura forced out an answer. "A-Anyway…! What's your identity? I believe knowing each other's true selves will bring about a better cooperation-"

"Are you reading off a script?" Avenger's blunt question stopped her dead in her tracks. "Hmph… Not that I mind much. You humans are always limited in that way."

She swung her legs childishly on top of Sakura's knees, adding, "And to answer your question, I won't tell you anything until you've proven yourself to be worthy of my everything."

The suggestive tone she was using was completely inappropriate for a girl her size to use, but Kariya immediately focused on her other words. "…so, you're not human?"

"And another weakness of humans is not knowing their place by speaking out of turn."

"My apologies," the haggard Kariya bowed as low as he could on his wheelchair.

\- Hop!

"Well, my appetite's gone by now, so I'll go ahead and sleep before you." Nonchalantly, she strutted towards the wing where the best guest rooms were kept. "…if that's alright with you, Master?"

'_That's not a question! That's a threat!'_ Sakura sweatdropped, but nervously nodded, "Y-Yes! Please, make yourself a-at home!"

* * *

"Do you want me to kill him?"

"Not yet, Lancer. We are still under the Association's watch," Bazett hissed, though not out of anger to her newly-summoned Servant. Instead, it's her inability to act according to her principles of morality _right now_, instead of later like she decided, which frustrated her. "We'll find an opening."

"Agreed. Hide one's fangs until the last critical moment, when their jugulars are exposed." The blue-clothed Lancer smirked. "You truly are a fitting Master for me."

The red-purple-haired Enforcer blushed. "Quit it with the talking. People can still hear us."

"What's wrong gloating about a beautiful, strong woman?"

Bazett's embarrassed punch cut through only air, as Lancer dematerialized completely before it could connect.

It was nearing winter, and the Mage Association had chosen her and one of her 'colleagues', Atrum Galliasta, as their representatives to the Holy Grail War in one of Japan's cities, Fuyuki. While she was looking forward to the experience, she certainly was _not_ looking forward to working with that piece of… chauvinistic pig.

She still hadn't gotten used to swearing so profusely in her mind, but she guessed she'd go exactly that over the duration of this Holy Grail War.

When they're finally out of sight, Bazett manoeuvred themselves into a café, where she pretended to come alone and deliberately ordered one menu at a time to give them time to converse.

[Care to fill me in?]

Despite being summoned as a Lancer, Cú Chulainn was still proficient enough to speak telepathically with his Master, especially when they're bound by this powerful Holy Grail as a pair. In fact, it'd be more jarring if he _couldn't_ do it – his _actual_ master would've killed him long ago if he only amounted to that much. His suave and energetic voice echoed smoothly inside Bazett's head.

[Just your stereotypical rich young tycoon,] she callously replied, her disdain of her dark-skinned partner even more apparent through this method of communication. [Which means he thinks he's allowed to do anything. Trust me, Lancer, the things I've heard him done will make you lose control and turn into a Berserker.]

[Tsk, hateful person,] he clicked his tongue. [No matter the era, these kinds of scumbags always exist.]

[I heard he's got himself a high-class catalyst.]

Surprisingly, Bazett felt she had just disrespected this legendary idol of hers.

[…and the one you used to summon me is not?] He _did_ sound insulted.

[I-It's because I s-summoned you with my faith and worship!] She hurriedly took a sip of the ultra-large roasted cappuccino to hide her red face. [Don't misunderstand! Please!]

He chuckled, though it was very awkward. [Hah… Well, do continue. Given you know of that, then you must also know the Servant he's summoning, right?]

Her face turned grim, remembering the gloating Atrum just performed in front of a crowd who's not listening to him.

As always. He always assumed he's the centre of attention.

[Medea, Queen of Colchis.]

\- Phew!

Whistling in admiration, Lancer remarked sarcastically, [Damn, he's _rich_.]

[Tell me about it.]

Colchis was on par with the fabled El Dorado of modern folklore… only _real_ instead of just a rumour, in terms of wealth of all kinds. Precious metals, lush natural resources, intricate arts and crafts, et cetera, et cetera…

It was a place too good to be true if one only heard about it.

And this was its greatest ruler, one who _was _the Authority of [Magic] as a third-generation deity after her master and senior apprentice, who took office before her.

[…well, just so you know, I've killed gods before.]

[You don't sound optimistic,] Bazett pessimistically replied.

A moment of silence reigned, before Lancer suddenly spoke up.

\- Pa!

His mental clap went through the telepathy as well, nearly causing Bazett to drop the spoon she's using. [Wait, it's actually good news!]

Knowing better than to retort at this point in time, she first wiped her mouth to regain her calm, before falling to the bait and asking, [Would you care to explain, Lancer?]

[Think about it! You, who summoned me through 'faith' – as you said earlier – would have great compatibility with me, right? Because you're kind of a fangirl and all.] Lancer guffawed as she blushed once again, but he quickly turned serious again. [What about those who forcibly summon a Servant of their choice with a catalyst, _without_ considering what the latter was like in life?]

\- …

After a while, Bazett gasped.

[Let's go find them, now!]

* * *

Finding Atrum's Workshop wasn't hard. Given he'd practically advertised it like his own… _ahem_, glorious third leg, most of his peers in the Association knew of the place, if only to avoid it during their daily tasks.

Of course, breaking into it without permission was always tricky, but Bazett wasn't an Enforcer for nothing. It's mandatory for her group to be highly trained in both terrorism and counterterrorism acts, just in case the mission demanded either offense, defence, or both. Besides, the one accompanying her right now was one of the most prolific magic user in Celtic Mythology, and the defences put up by an arrogant scum like Atrum was child's play in front of Cú Chulainn.

\- Clink.

…but the place opened up without anything more than a gentle push.

Lancer materialized, his famed cursed crimson spear at the ready. "Someone beats us to the punch."

\- Creak…

Bazett's new leather gloves squeaked as she forcibly broke them in, clenching and unclenching her fists after stretching them taut over her hand. "Agreed. Lancer, if anything happens, you can use your entire skills at your discretion. Don't worry about my Od consumption."

"…don't expect me to princess-carry you later, beautiful," Lancer teased.

His Master only huffed, before slowly pushing the main door open with her shoulder. It's standard practice to allow full movement of her limbs – she'd seen too many situations where the hands used to open doors got chopped off due to a trap or ambush. While Lancer might know something to get her out of trouble, there's no sense in risking it over such a simple procedure.

Before they even got through the door, however, a clear, bell-like voice welcomed them.

"Oh? I wasn't expecting guests today."

In the Workshop, various items were strewn about chaotically. Critically, among them were Artum's mutilated remains.

The breathtakingly beautiful, bewitching, pointy-eared, violet-haired lovely young girl smiled purely at them. Bathed in blood, she loosely clenched an illogical rainbow-colored dagger in her hand as the red liquid dripped off her long lilac ponytail.

"Ah, are you my new Master?" Medea sweetly asked.


End file.
